


The Cave

by masksarehot



Series: The Cave AU [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masksarehot/pseuds/masksarehot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amon must cooperate with Korra if he hopes to survive his injuries following a natural disaster, forcing him to face his prejudices about bending head-on...and leaving him grappling with an inconvenient growing attraction. Complete! Canon to Ep 1.08; AU after that. AmonxKorra/Amorra; some naughty scenes, all consensual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got really popular on ff.net through some total fluke of timing, and I thought I'd post it here, too!
> 
> WARNING: this story was first published around Book 1 Episode 8, and I made some incorrect assumptions that make this very AU:
> 
> 1) Tarrlok was the true "big bad", and would continue to impose harsher and harsher Draconian measures on the city
> 
> 2) Amon was telling the truth about his history (and thus is scarred, can't resist bloodbending, etc.)
> 
> Also, please note that the first 5 chapters were written as a rushed standalone; I had no idea that this story would get so much attention at ff.net, or that I would eventually write into a full story, then add a sequel and a bunch of spinoffs, so the pacing is a bit choppy in places. My apologies!

_Amon,_

_I have an extremely urgent proposition we need to discuss. Alone. No men, no guards, no traps. Just you and me._

_There is a cave on the outskirts of the city, near the south-eastern peak of Observation Mountain. I will be there tonight at midnight._

_Come alone. Tell no-one._

_-Avatar Korra_

"It has to be a trap," said the lieutenant, reading over Amon's shoulder.

"No, this is too clumsy to be a trap." Amon smoothed the letter on the desk. "This is desperation." No doubt it stemmed from Councilman Tarrlok's abhorrent actions as of late.

"Surely you aren't entertaining her request?"

"The Avatar will get her meeting – but on my terms, not hers." Cocking his head at the lieutenant to follow, Amon began to walk for the door.

**I  
Trapped**

The meeting ended before it began.

Amon had stationed his troops around the peak, ready to strike at his lieutenant's command, and entered the cave alone, pressing against the wall by the mouth. The plan, once she entered, was to emerge from the shadows, intimidate her until he had squeezed out every bit of information about Tarrlok, and leave her paralyzed with fear. Not elegant, but effective. The Avatar was an extremely valuable tool to the Equalist cause, but only so long as she truly feared and respected him.

Shortly before midnight, she entered, holding a glowing fireball in her hand like a torch. "Amon?" she called.

"Avatar," he greeted, and she jumped and spun, her eyes wide with fear. Good. Walking slowly up to her, he kept his shoulders broad, his gaze strong. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple, glistening in the light of the flame, but she stood tall.

"You came alone?" she demanded.

He stopped, looming over her, and did not answer.

Her brow cocked with suspicion and she folded her arms over her chest, wilting a little under his gaze. "Look, I hate you and you hate me, but right now we have a common enemy. I have a proposition."

A deafening groan drowned her next words. The cave ground heaved.

Normally light on his feet, Amon staggered. Behind his mask, his lips curled into a sneer. Earthbending. That this was a trap was not surprising, but how had her troops gotten past his?

"Call off your earthbenders," he intoned, struggling to maintain decorum as the ground shuddered. "We agreed to meet alone." Another tremor nearly knocked him off his feet.

Across from him, the Avatar fell to all fours. "I did come alone!" Her voice was panicky.

He barely had time to register that it was a legitimate earthquake when the ground pitched, upending him. Jagged rocks crumbled from the cave roof, their slams sending sprays of stone showering down on them. A shard sliced into his arm, through cloth and flesh, and drew blood.

His eyes snapped to the Avatar. He had to keep her alive; all his plans depended on it. She had managed to rise onto one knee, her hands deftly bending the fallen rocks away from herself. She was skilled indeed, but too focussed on the immediate. Above her, the ceiling was beginning to crack, a heavy load of debris about to drop.

"Above you!" he yelled, but his deep voice was lost in the echoing moans of the earth around them. Still she focussed on the stones around her. Still the ceiling began to give.

No choice.

He launched himself at her, barrelling toward her on all fours, the ground rocking so harshly that it hit either shoulder along his way.

She lifted her head just before the impact, her eyes widening, but he was too quick for her to avoid.

His momentum sent her tumbling. He rolled, landed on his back, and a crushing white pain seized his shoulder and enveloped his mind in darkness.

.*.*.*.

The same pain jerked him back above the surface. Something was pinning him, crushing him. His right hand reached for his left. Debris. Mounds of it. Below it, a damp pool. He tried to control the desperate gasps that heaved from his lips, echoing in the suddenly still chamber.

"Amon?" came the tentative voice of the Avatar. A small ball of flame hovered in the air above him, and she crawled forward, leaning over him. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. Even with the edges of his vision fuzzing, he could tell by the confusion on her face that she was debating whether she should let him live or die.

"How bad?" he managed between gasps.

"Hang on." A determined look pinched her features, and she stood square. A thrust of her hand, and the weight load on his arm lessened. His head lolled to the side and he saw a pile of stone on his arm. Blood leaked from beneath it. So much blood. Stars swam in front of his eyes.

She thrust and spun, and another load of debris was lifted, and he realized that she was using bending to save him.

"Don't." The word was swallowed by a writhe of pain.

With a triumphant yell, she lifted the last of the debris off of his arm. Blood spurted from his lacerated arm in pulses. His vision greyed.

"Hang on. I can help," she said, and she disappeared from view. When she returned, a trail of glowing blue water followed her. Her arms took on a circular movement and the water encased his arm.

Suddenly, his arm seized, the pain more violent than he could have imagined. He jack-knifed, sitting up, doubling over the offending arm. His own yell rang in his ears.

"Sorry. I didn't do that right." She jerked one arm upward; her other hand glowed blue as she hovered it over the wounds.

She was using bending to heal him. This would not stand! He tried to pull away, but his arm was too weak to control. The blue glow dissolved into his arm; though the wounds sealed, the pain did not abate.

Amon lay against the stone floor, his vision swimming in front of him as he tried to catch up to his racing breaths. Adrenaline had engulfed his normally calm demeanour, and his eyes ticked across her face.

"There. You won't die now," she said. Leaning back on her heels, she added dryly, "Now try to tell me how that bending I just did is evil."

Saving the Avatar for last, be damned! Fury erupted in a howl from his throat. He lunged at her, fingers reaching for the nerve on her neck that would cause the most pain, but blackness swarmed him.

The sounds around him muted, then were still.

.*.*.*.

He awoke with a splitting headache and a parched mouth. Bleary-eyed, he sat up, trying to focus on his spinning surroundings.

The small fireball still glowed at the roof of the cave – she must have left it there as a light, though he couldn't fathom how it was sustaining itself. It seemed the Avatar had some novel bending techniques up her sleeve.

The cavern was otherwise dark, and smaller than he remembered, its edges lined with rubble. The earthquake had sealed off the exit. A tunnel beside it was intact, but it burrowed deep into the earth. Perhaps another exit. So weak was he that even the thought of dragging himself in that direction was exhausting.

The Avatar was nowhere to be seen, but a small flask of water and a pile of what appeared to be dried seaweed was set neatly beside him. With a quick glance around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he lifted his mask just enough so that his mouth could accept the liquid. It coated his parched tongue, soothing its ache. Once he had drank his fill, he set it down and examined his wounds.

The leather over his left arm was shredded and mangled, and it still ached as though wounded, but the cuts had healed already. Rage boiled in his chest. How dare she use bending on him without his consent! It was better than bleeding to death, but not by much. His fingertips ran down the proud nose of his mask as he settled it back into place and tried to regain his composure. He was Amon, he reminded himself, leader of the Equalists, the man who struck fear into all benders with his calm, calculated disposition. He tried to stand, but sagged back to a slump, his head still throbbing.

"Easy there." The Avatar came around the corner of the tunnel, carrying an armful of the same type of seaweed that had been stacked beside him. "You lost a lot of blood. You're going to be dragged out for several days, so don't push it." She knelt before a flat piece of rocky debris and stretched out the pieces of seaweed, then waved her hand over it, an orange glow surrounding her. The scent of roasted seaweed floated through the cavern.

He slumped back to the ground, but fixed his eyes on her. "You have a lot of gall, Avatar, practising bending on me."

She shrugged, her back still to him. "The least you can do is call me by name, given that we've saved one another's life now." Stacking the roasted seaweed in a pile, she added, "Thanks, by the way. That pile of rubble would have crushed my skull if you hadn't pushed me out of the way." The tone was nonchalant, and his mood darkened further. Any power he had held over her had slipped through his fingers as he had lain writhing beneath her healing touch. Fixing that was going to be difficult while he was incapacitated. For the first time since he had reached the public eye, Amon did not know what move to make next.

Korra took a bite of the seaweed, then made a face. "At least it will keep us alive." She swiveled to face him, legs folded beneath her. "I'd be correct in guessing that you broke our agreement?"

Not sure what she meant, he eyed her.

She huffed with impatience. "I mean, you brought troops with you to our meeting, right? So how long do you think it will take for them to dig us out of here?"

Amon faltered. Would they bother? Or would they consider his life a fair exchange for the Avatar's? As valuable as he was to the movement, he had specifically set up the Equalist machine to keep churning should he become a martyr.

"Several days," was what he replied.

"Figured. I can start tunnelling out toward them. It might cut that time a bit." Scooping the bundle of seaweed in her arms, she marched up to him. There was no fear in her eyes. He racked his foggy brain: he had to regain the upper hand. As she knelt beside him and dropped the seaweed on the pile, he lunged, grabbing her by the collar, and pulled her nose to his.

"Listen to me, Avatar," he said, his voice deep and calm. "All that has come to pass here has changed nothing. I will still be your end."

There was a slight spark of fear in her eyes, but she pushed him away and set her jaw, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "And you listen to me, Amon. We're stuck together for the next few days whether we like it or not, so you had better cooperate if we're going to get out of here alive."

He kept his gaze even. "You will come to regret not letting me die."

"Maybe I will. But I'm not the kind of person who can let a life go unsaved." Raising a brow, she added, "Based on the way you rushed to save my life in the first place, I'm guessing you're not so different."

"You saved me for the same reason I saved you: I need you alive." She could spout about saving people all she wanted – he would not be fooled. He needed her alive to use as a scapegoat for his campaign, just as she needed him as a scapegoat for her pro-bending propaganda. At the end of the day, they both had an agenda.

A troubled look crossed her face, but she stood. "Eat some food. I'm going to start tunnelling."

Carefully tilting his mask to guard his face as much as possible, he ate the seaweed and honed in on Korra's back as she began her work. This was an excellent opportunity to observe her for future strategic advantage. Her movements were skilled and powerful, the muscles of her arms and back rippling with each strike. While she was a bit more raw than the older generation of benders, a little rougher around the edges, she bent with an unbridled energy that would make her a fearsome Avatar once she matured.

If she ever had the chance – he was not about to let that happen. If he had his way, it would not be long until the Avatar cycle ended permanently.

Soon she settled into the same strikes over and over again, finding the most efficient movements, and with nothing more to analyze, his mind began to wander. He caught himself admiring the shapely curves of her athletic body.

That line of thought was not going to benefit him at all. This was the enemy, not a beautiful work of art to admire.  _Focus._

Focus on what? Helplessness was not an emotion for which Amon had patience, and it was becoming more and more apparent that he was absolutely useless in his current state. Even sitting up was a chore. The best thing he could do would be to sleep to regain his strength.

He closed his eyes, the rhythmic shifting of earth and Korra's soft grunts lulling him to sleep.

.*.*.*.

Amon awoke with a start when Korra dropped to a seat beside him. Dust caked her face and her clothes, sweat stains visible against her skin. With a wave of her hand, she pulled the dust particles from her body and deposited them on the floor beside her, the sweat following immediately after. Revulsion welled in his throat. To be given such a gift from the spirits, and to waste it on hygiene! How frivolous. She would be paralyzed once her bending was gone. Just like the others.

"I sure hope your guys really are digging on the other side," she said. "It's all rubble and debris - I can't tunnel through it like I could solid rock. It's going to take forever." Taking a bite of the seaweed, she added, "There's a pool deeper in the cavern, so we have food and water, at least. I was hoping there was another exit further down, but I couldn't find a way through."

He pushed himself to a seat, his head still fogged. His stomach told him that he had slept for several hours and it needed more food, but he wasn't about to risk lifting the bottom of his mask with the Avatar beside him.

She cocked her head at him. "I didn't expect you to be so quiet. You can't seem to shut up when you have an audience."

He stared evenly at her.

With a sigh, she shook her head and turned back to her seaweed. "I'm so stir-crazy that I'm considering asking you to preach about the evils of benders just so I can hear a human voice."

"The words would be wasted on you," he said, his voice gravelly with disuse.

"Then can we discuss the proposal I was originally going to pitch before the earthquake?"

"I am not in the correct frame of mind." He could barely see straight.

"Fine. I'm sure we'll have time to discuss it later." A yawn split her face as she stretched, and then she flopped backwards. "You meant what you said that time about saving me for last, right? I can count on you not to take my bending while I sleep?"

"For now."

"Good, because I'm exhausted." Her eyes closed. After a few minutes, her breaths deepened, and the small ball of fire at the cave ceiling shrank, then extinguished.

In the refuge of darkness, Amon pulled off his mask. He ate the seaweed and drank the water, using the remainder to rinse his face. These few movements were enough to exhaust him, and he cursed his frailty. Fastening his mask in place, he slid onto his back.

Without the glowing flame, the cavern grew chilly. Beside him, Korra was shivering in her sleep. The most logical move would be to nestle against her for warmth, but the prospect nauseated him. How many times had her water bending made others shiver, freeze? Let her suffer, just as her victims had. Huddling into his cloak, he curled onto his side, his back to her.

.*.*.*.

Korra's moan jolted him from sleep. Amon tensed, listening. She groaned again, and he heard the rustle of clothes as she thrashed.

"No!" she yelled, then echoed the word, whimpering.

So even the world's most overprivileged bender had nightmares. He had his share as well, filled with monsters who bent fire to char everyone and everything he had ever cared about. Every waking hour was dedicated to slaying the monsters that haunted his sleep – perhaps her tenacity was akin to his; perhaps she chased monsters of her own. He strained his ears to take in every sound, hoping she would reveal a weakness that he could use to his advantage.

"Amon, no!" she shrieked, and a burst of flame blinded him. When his eyes at last adjusted, she was sitting upright, flame dancing on her fingertips, her breaths harsh and sweat trailing down her temple.

_In her dreams, I am the monster._

The thought should have been welcome – fear was a tool, one he had worked hard to hone – but it sank in his stomach like stone. His heart was pounding, her shriek still ringing in his ears.

Korra blinked, as if recovering awareness, then turned to look at him. He could have offered her some dignity, pretended he didn't know what had frightened her so badly, but his instinct defaulted to tactics rather than kindness. His eyes locked with hers.

She withdrew her hand, leaving the ball of flame as a light, and drew her knees to her chest.

He did not drop his gaze. "I am honoured to plague your nightmares, young Avatar."

"Don't give yourself too much credit." Her voice was defensive, though shame coloured her cheeks. "I once had a nightmare that Tenzin's children were trying to eat me. Doesn't mean I'm frightened of them." Her jaw jutted and she rested it on her knees. "I'm not afraid of anyone."

"Your mask is not so effective as mine. I know you think me a monster."

"Because you are a monster!" Her blue eyes pierced through him. "How many people have died for your revolution, Amon?"

"I'd prefer it if none did." She looked surprised at the response, so he added, "I only wish to equalize the benders. Any casualties beyond that are regrettable. And you, young Avatar: how many people have you killed with your bending?"

"None." Her eyes narrowed. "Want to know how many lives I have saved?"

"I, too, have saved lives." He pushed himself up on one elbow. "I have removed the bending of some of the greatest bullies in Republic City. Doubtless this has-"

"Stop," she interrupted. "Save your propaganda for the microphone." The light extinguished and he heard her fall back to the ground beside him. "If you were as benevolent as you pretended to be, you would see that our goals aren't all that different. Instead, you terrorize and manipulate. Did it ever occur to you to simply ask the Council to allow non-bender leadership, instead of marching ahead with this war?" She snorted. "You want the glory of being the figurehead of a revolution. That's what makes you a monster. You're pretending that vengeance and power-mongering are benevolence, but people like me see through that mask. Too bad the Equalists don't."

Guilt was kindling in his stomach, and he cursed her in his mind. So she was a skilled manipulator, too. He had to steel his resolve, block out her words.

A part of him was already agreeing with her.


	2. Exhaustion

**II  
Exhaustion**

When he awoke the next morning, Korra sat beside a freshly roasting batch of seaweed, water still dripping from her hair. She stood and moved her arms, releasing the water from her body, leaving her dry. He became acutely aware that his own robes were drenched in sweat and caked with grime, no doubt kicked up by her tunnelling. If only he had the energy to drag himself to the pool to bathe... But a quick stretch of his limbs showed that his strength had barely improved from the day before.

She returned as he was examining his hands, trying to rub off the dirt.

"I can dunk you in the pool and then dry you off again," she offered.

He dropped his hands. "I will not allow my body to be further tainted by your bending." His skin itched with sweat, and he bit his lip to keep from scratching it. No weakness.

"I don't need bending to get you to the pool. Come on. You still have blood caked all over your arm." She reached out a hand. The itch had spread across his body, and he relented, holding out his good hand to clasp hers. It was small, soft and startlingly strong. She hoisted him onto her back and began to trudge deeper into the cave, moving him as if he weighed no more than a child. His head lolled against her upper back and, even through the mask, he could taste her scent: earthy, musky, sweet. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he hoped it was just from his wounded body protesting the jarring motions.

The tunnel took a sharp twist to the right and angled down, and they came to the edge of a small pool in the rocks. The walls dropped straight down, no bottom in sight, though he could see fronds of seaweed lining their depths.

She tilted her head to make eye contact with him. "It'd be a lot easier if I bent the water so that-"

"No," he said. "No bending."

"By the spirits, you're stubborn." She jumped into the water, pulling him in with her. The shock of the cold water jolted through him, and his wounded arm spasmed. For an instant, they clung together, wet and slippery, and his thoughts had just started to take a dangerous turn when she spoke:

"Can you swim?"

"Yes."

"Good." She let go of his arms and pushed away from him, and he missed the warmth of her back immediately. While he scrubbed himself clean as best as he could without removing his robes – a completely inefficient goal – Korra jack-knifed and dove deep, her body gyrating through the water like a dolphin. Then she spun and shot up in the air, sailed toward the cavern roof, then pitched back into the water. He held up a hand to block the spray. Was she enjoying herself? He had heard that the water tribes were oddly enamoured with water, but this was more childlike and adoring than he had anticipated, especially given the gravity of their situation.

She floated on her back, sculling the water with her hands. "This is surreal. Bathing with my enemy."

Amon dunked his head under the water, loosening the mask just a crack as he resurfaced to let the water drain. He had barely readjusted it when a stream of water hit his forehead. Korra laughed, her hands poised in front of her, ready to squirt at him again. All he could do was stare, flabbergasted by her demeanour.

"You can take off the mask," she said. "I'm not exactly in a position to run to the authorities with a description of your face."

"I am not so short-sighted. We will return to freedom soon enough."

She cocked her head and smiled. "Sounds like you have confidence in my bending abilities, Amon. That's so sweet."

Her sarcasm did not go unnoticed. In brighter days, he would have enjoyed being teased, eagerly whipping back a retort. His humour had died the day his plans of revolution had begun.

Instead, he scrabbled for the edge and tried to pull himself out, and was humiliated to realize that he didn't even have the strength for that. She launched herself onto the land and held out a hand, grasping his, and hoisted him out. Water trailed down every crevice of his body, and he considered letting her pull the water off of him so he could be comfortable.

"I've been thinking about it, though," she said, her face suddenly sombre. "We've been down here for what, a day and a half? Two? The earth hasn't reverberated once."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that your men aren't trying to dig us out."

He kept his eyes cool, and curled his hands into fists so they would not betray a tremble. "And what of your men? I would have thought the earthbenders would come for their Avatar."

"I told you, I didn't break our agreement. No one knows I'm here." Her voice grew quiet and she looked away. He now saw her rambunctious behaviour in the pool for what it was: the desperation of a woman trying to ignore her depressing reality. The ground threatened to pitch beneath him.

"Then your work must continue if we are to survive," he said, frustrated that bending was, once again, saving his life.

"I suppose so." She glanced down at the pool of water gathering beneath him from his wet clothes. "You want me to dry you off?"

"Do not use your bending on me."

"Right, right. Only use it to free you from this cave. Got it." She sounded impatient, as if he were being stubborn. Perhaps he was.

She carried him back to the camp and dropped him - a bit more roughly than was necessary, he thought - on the ground.

"You sit there and contemplate how beneficial bending has been to your life in the past couple days," she said. "I'm going back to work."

.*.*.*.

The next several hours dragged, made all the more miserable by his damp robes and hair. He spent some time considering strategies and speeches in his mind, but his usual motivation had waned. He would have spent more time studying Korra for tactical purposes, but she had pushed so deep into her self-made tunnel, clouds of dust floating around her, that this plan was futile. After drifting in and out of sleep and eating a few meals of seaweed – he was already so sick of seaweed – he realized that she had been working for hours straight without a break. Should he try to convince her to rest? She was his only way out of this prison, after all, and she was no good to him dead.

His decision was made for him a short while later. The rhythmic yells began to fade to grunts, and the pace began to slow. Suddenly, it stopped.

He waited for her to return.

And waited.

Then the light faded, and the tunnel was swallowed by blackness.

"Avatar?" he called.

No response. He reached into his robes for his tinder box, pulling out flint and steel. Tearing at the border of his undercoat, he wrapped a strip of cloth around a rock and set it alight. It would not last long, but it at least cast some light on the cavern so that he could find his way to the tunnel. Then he grabbed the water flask and tucked it in his robes.

He tried to stand, but fell to all fours – all threes, really, because he could not put weight on his wounded arm. Fine, then: he would crawl. Frustrated, he dragged himself along the jagged ground and into Korra's tunnel. If she had died of exhaustion, he was finished. Stupid woman, stubbornly pressing on this hard. He tried not to admit to himself that tenacity to a fault was a trait he admired.

Her body lay at the deepest end of the tunnel; he had just enough time to see her before the light from the chamber behind him flickered and died. He grunted, sweat trickling down his face behind the mask, pulling himself toward her. The world was spinning, and he cursed his weak body again and again.

At last, feeling his way forward, he reached her. Her skin was hot and surprisingly dry, but there was still a pulse, though weak. He slumped against the cave wall, barely sitting upright, and hoisted her against him. Her head lolled against his collarbone, and he could feel her jagged breaths against his neck.

"Avatar." He clapped her cheek. "Avatar, awaken." When there was no response, he tried again: "Korra."

"Amon?" A small cough. "Don't...hurt me..." The words were barely a croak, yet they shook him to his core.  _I am the monster._

"You need to drink." Navigating blindly, he held up the flask. She reached for it, her hand closing feebly over his and she drew it to her lips. He tilted too far; she coughed, but then they coordinated their movements better, and she drained half the flask before he pulled it away. Too much, and she would only cough it back up.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I pushed too hard." Her voice was paper-thin. "I'm too tired to bend. I can't...I can't bend."

"You'll need to rest here. I don't have the strength to bring you back to camp," he said, too exhausted to care about tilting the power balance in his favour.

She curled against him, her head nestling under his chin. With discomfort, he realized that her ear was right over his heart, which had started to race. How could it not? Avatar or no, she was a warm, soft, curvy woman in his lap.

"Do you like me now that I'm a non-bender, Amon?" she asked drowsily, her voice foggy, as if half in a dream. His breath caught in his throat.

_Stop._ He dropped his arms away from her, trying to decrease the intimacy of the situation, but that was nearly impossible with her head on his chest and her breasts pressed against his side. The scent of her sweat filled his nose and mouth, sweet pheromones that made his pulse rush even faster.

Though every fibre of his body screamed at him to stay entwined with her, he delicately pushed her away. With a moan of protest, she curled up beside him instead. He turned his back to her, curling onto his side, protecting himself from her warmth and weight and scent.

This time, when she began to shiver, the desire to gather her in his arms and keep her warm was so overwhelming that his hands curled into fists until his nails dug into his palms.

.*.*.*.

That night, it was she who plagued his dreams, her naked form glistening in the pool, as graceful and nimble as a sea spirit as she spun and twisted in the water. A glance back at him, a scandalized flush colouring her cheeks, but then a beckoning finger and a sly smile:  _Do you like me now, Amon?_


	3. Seeking Warmth

**III  
Seeking Warmth**

Amon's eyelids parted. Korra was gone. Hazily, he wondered if she were bathing, and a smile tugged at his lips before he could catch it.

_Stop._

He stretched his aching limbs and folded his legs beneath him, doubling over as he waited for the remnants of the dream to fade. It would not do to form an obsession; she could not hold power over him! As it was, he didn't think he would be able to look her in the eye, let alone stare her down.

Struggling to his feet, he sagged against the tunnel wall. He could see now why it was taking her so long to bore through it: it wasn't solid rock so much as a twisted mess of earth, metal, wood and other debris. Had any of the surrounding land survived this landslide? Maybe all his men were dead. His head swam, but he clenched his jaw and took a step forward, leaning heavily against the wall. Another step. Progress.

"Good morning," called Korra from the end of the tunnel. He kept his head down, pretending that his soul hadn't just brightened at the sound of her voice.

"I can help you," she added, hurrying over to him and putting her arm around his shoulder.

He deflected her arm, twisting her away from him. Standing as straight as his injuries would allow, he took another tentative step; his good hand clung to the roughly hewn wall.

Her brows dropped. "Fine. I was going to thank you for helping me last night, but if you'd rather have nothing to do with me-"

"Save your breath, Avatar. I am impervious to guilt." He took another step, his breath growing more laboured. It would be easier to crawl, but he couldn't bear to show any more weakness in front of her.

"Can I at least make sure your arm is healing okay?" Without waiting for permission, she grabbed it and examined the wounds. "It's doing all right, but there are some areas that need more attention. If I do a little more healing-"

"No."

"Just a little-"

He snapped his eyes to her, letting his fury show in his gaze. "You will not use bending on me, or touch me, or even speak to me, Avatar. My promise to save you for last is on more and more tenuous ground as my patience wears thin."

She flinched as if he had kicked her in the stomach, but then her face hardened. "I have saved your life, provided you with food and water, and am working all day, every day to try to free you from what could be your tomb, and you respond by threatening me?" She shook her head. "I was speaking the truth when I said I had never killed anyone, but if you so much as lift a finger against me after all I have done, then I won't hesitate to make you my first."

She whirled, stomped to the end of the tunnel and began to bend. Amon gritted his teeth and took another step, but what was the point of pretending to be strong when she could already see straight through him? He dropped to a crawl and dragged himself back into the main cavern, his jaw clenched so tightly that his head began to ache. There, he slumped against a boulder and tried to calm his rising anger.

.*.*.*.

That day was the most torturous yet. Amon was well enough that he couldn't sleep, but too weak to do anything except sit and think. His thoughts were restless, retreading the same uncomfortable ground until he thought he would go mad.

Korra's blasts and grunts stopped and she returned to the camp to refuel. She didn't so much as glance his way, and then she returned to her work. At first, he hoped that she wouldn't work herself to exhaustion again, but then he told himself that he didn't care. If she collapsed, he was leaving her there this time. Better he die in this tomb than end up with another night of racy dreams about his ultimate enemy. Her naked, glistening breasts drifted through his mind, and he closed his eyes against the thought, willing himself not to consider them for a moment longer.

When it came time to retire for the night, she stormed through the cavern, snatching the flask from beside him and disappearing around the corner. He was dependent on her for that, too, though at least she didn't have to bend in order to procure it. Every other aspect of his life right now was dependent on her bending – healing, food, shelter, escape. His head lolled back against the boulder and he draped an arm over the eyes of his mask. When he got out of here, everything would shift back into perspective and he would see bending for the perversion of the elements that it was. At that moment, however, that other world felt a lifetime away.

Still wearing a cross expression, Korra stomped back into the cavern and slammed the flask back into place beside him. She walked ten more paces and then dropped, curling up with her back to him.

"The water and earth temperatures have dropped," she said, "so it's going to be a cold night. Wake me if you're going to freeze to death and decide you want me to save your life with bending yet again." After a pause, she added, "But if you'd only rant about that later, then please save us both some trouble and die instead."

The light winked out.

Amon almost laughed. She was a snarky young thing, for sure. He couldn't deny that she had fight in her.

It made him want to tame her.

_Stop!_  The word was losing its power; his control was slipping. He coiled on his side, trying to extinguish the glow rippling through his abdomen, but it was spreading, and as it rose to his mind, he found himself saying:

"I have been ungrateful."

She snorted. "I'll say."

"You must understand my position."

"What, that you're a stubborn old megalomaniac?"

The accusation was so surprising that he chuckled.

The light burst to life again; she was staring at him incredulously. "Did you just laugh?"

He cleared his throat.

"It wasn't quite the evil cackle I was expecting," she added, trying to catch his eye.

"Evil cackle? You truly do think me a monster."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that you are." Her head cocked as she peered at him. "I don't understand how you can be so adamant that bending is evil, even after all it has done for you."

"It is not without its benefits," he conceded, "but those are rarely realized. Your little trick of healing with water – how many waterbending healers do you think there are in Republic City? Compare that to the number of criminals who use their waterbending skills to terrorize and bully. Think of your Councilman Tarrlok, or the Red Monsoon."

Her gaze dropped. "But it isn't the bending itself that's evil. It's just a tool they use. Your problem is with basic human nature, not with bending itself."

Let her think that he was a villain or a fool, he thought, meeting her gaze. She was too young to understand the impact of admitting that one's life's ambitions were based on falsehood. His entire life had been geared toward revenge. His anti-bender ideals were all he had; he had sacrificed friendship, love, everything to see his rebellion come to fruition. If he admitted now that his life was built on a lie... He had to be correct, because the alternative was not an option.

"This is not an area we will ever agree on," he said. "We are both too alike, too devoted to opposite causes."

There was a long pause.

"I want to understand you," she said at last, her voice quiet. He studied her.

"Why? So that you can fix me? Heal my evil, corrupted soul the way you healed my body?"

She shrugged and her eyes dropped away. "I feel like if I could understand what caused your pain, I could understand what is going wrong with bending as an art. You aren't wrong about that: I've seen the corruption for myself, and I've seen the inequalities, and it's only getting worse. I can fix it. I know I can. I just need more time. And you won't give that to me." Her voice trailed off.

There was a long silence. He watched as she gathered her knees to her chest, shivering. She was right, to some extent: their goals were similar. She just didn't see yet that bending wasn't just a tool, but a root cause. His head swam with dozens of conflicting thoughts, and above them all was the urge to smooth her chestnut hair and gather her to his collarbone, soothing away all the pain he had brought her. It had been many years since he had allowed himself to care for anyone. Attachment only brought pain and complication. In this case, 'complication' would be an understatement.

"I meant what I said about it being a cold night tonight," said Korra.

"Is that a metaphor for our conversation?"

"No. I'm actually freezing." Goosebumps had sprouted on her bare arms. "I made the fireball bigger, but it'll just go out when I fall asleep anyway."

Yet again, logic was dictating that he should curl up beside her, and it bothered him that he was fond of the idea. Delaying, he eyed the glowing mass, seeing an opportunity to dig for information. "I've never seen a firebender sustain a flame like that."

"I'm not your average firebender." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Secret for a secret: I'll tell you how I do it if you show me what's under that mask."

"Your bartering skills could use some honing, young Avatar."

"It was worth a try." She lay down, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Shivers chattered her teeth. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but the sound of her suffering through the cold made him feel even colder himself.

He gave in and slid beside her. Stretching out, he pressed against her side.

"You're no good to me frozen," he said, dismissing the intimacy. "I need you alive."

"Of course," she said, but her cheeks were dark.

The two enemies lay stiffly beside one another. He took a long, quiet breath in through his mouth, tasting her earthy scent even through the mask. A heady sensation rose in his mind, like the afterglow of one too many glasses of wine. He tried to reach for logic: it was common for two people trapped together to develop a false sense of companionship. Human nature. These feelings would dissipate the instant they set foot outside this cave.

"How old are you, Amon?" she asked softly. An odd question, he thought, and he wondered if she had voiced it in place of others she was too timid to ask.

"Older than you."

"By a lot?"

"I am not divulging any clues about my identity." He was both amused and annoyed that she kept pressing him.

"You don't seem very old. You're too agile. And your hands look young." She reached across to grip his good arm, bringing it close to her face to inspect his hand. Electricity shot up his arm; he curled his fingers into a fist.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sleuthing." A yawn split her mouth. "I suppose I should be sleeping instead."

"That would be wise."

She smirked at him, then rolled onto her side, draping his arm over her like a blanket. The movement forced his front flush with her back, muscles and curves and swells, and he struggled to keep his breaths even. There was no room for subtlety between them, and he wondered if she could feel his heartbeat reverberating all the way through his ribcage and into hers. His hand settled onto her bicep, intending to warm her, but the texture of her skin was pleasant. Hesitantly, he smoothed his palm across it. When she gave a small, contented sigh, he repeated the movement, revelling in the impossible softness of her skin.

Where was the voice that usually told him to stop? This was dangerous, but he couldn't bring himself to break the contact.

She was nestling back against him now, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining, and he could hear her breaths growing harsher...or were those his? How had this happened?

Their joined hands slid together along the contour of her ribs, her muscled waist, her round hips, and back up to her chest, and this was the Avatar, the  _Avatar_ , the greatest enemy known to the Equalists. Her breast was soft and warm beneath his palm, the nipple hardening against his touch. The Avatar, the enemy. Behind closed eyes he saw her future, facing him after all the other benders had been equalized, the Avatar state finally awakening as she rose to fight him to the death. One would die: there was no alternative. His body was beginning to respond to her warmth, and she gasped and arched back against him, and it took all his restraint not to grind against her. How had he let this happen? Benders had caused nothing but suffering! His mother's twisted, charred face rose in his mind's eye, her dead eyes wide with horror, still wearing the pleading scream she had launched at him as the flames had licked at her face, his feeble, childish hands scrabbling futilely against the burning wreckage...

They would all pay for what they had done.

Amon wrenched his arm from Korra's grasp and shoved her away. He staggered to his feet. "Get away from me," he growled, his voice dripping venom.

She caught herself mid-roll and sat up, her brows pinched. "Amon, what-"

"I know what you're trying to do, Avatar. It will not work. I will not be manipulated." He crouched into fighting stance. "This ends now." He tried not to sway, but his stance was still unsteady, and she noticed.

"You're in no condition to fight, and I can barely bend after working hard all day." Her eyes pleaded with him, hurt. "This is not the final showdown you want."

"This ends now," he repeated.

"I won't fight you," she said quietly. "Not like this."

It was not the answer he had expected.

Silent, quick, he darted at her, tapping just one pressure point on her shoulder and rolling around to her back.

"Ow!" She grabbed her shoulder and stood. "I thought you needed me alive."

"Not if I am to be your pawn." His illness dulled his senses for a moment and he thought he might stumble – he'd have to end this quickly, before his fatigue caught him. He shot at her again, aiming to temporarily block her bending. She stood and intercepted, deflecting his blow and countering with a blast of fire. He wove around it, spun to her back and crouched low to duck beneath her follow-up kick. Flames dissipated harmlessly above his head.

Korra landed in stance, her face at last showing anger. "I'm not using you! We were finally starting to see eye-to-eye!"

"We forgot ourselves, Avatar. This is all we are. We dance as warriors, not lovers."

Her face flushed with anger. She yelled and slung a wave of flame at him. It was a sloppy blow, and he easily dodged it, landing in a crouch. Shifting momentum, he ran at her and dove forward, springing off his good hand; his leg hooked around the back of her neck and he swung, using the movement to press her into the ground with his other knee at her back. She aimed a blast of fire back at him, blind, and he easily tilted out of the way. Six quick blows with his finger to her shoulder blade and the arm fell limp.

He wrapped his mind in the anger and the adrenaline rush so that he wouldn't consider any other emotions. Even weakened as they both were – he by illness, she by fatigue - he was going to best her. He shifted to the side and rolled her over. To his surprise, she continued the roll, using her momentum to spin to her feet before he could react. Her boots had barely touched the ground when she spun and laid a kick across his face, the force of it sending him to the cave floor with ringing ears. He recovered just in time to see her fist drilling for his face. He rolled. She yelped as her fist struck stone. Catching the bicep of her arm, he yanked down, pulling her to the ground. She hit hard, her breath escaping with a whoosh.

Panting, he lowered himself to a crouch atop her as she struggled to reclaim her breath. Sweat was beading under his mask from his exertion, and his hands were trembling _._ Two fingers lifted to the sky as he channelled energy into them. His other hand – the injured one - found the chi point at the back of her neck to steady her. He steeled himself, forced himself to look into her eyes as he did to all those he equalized.

A mistake.

There was no fear there, only anger. She wore the eyes of one betrayed.

He hesitated.

Korra's fist drove into his side. With impressive strength, she rolled him while he was off guard. Her body landed atop of his. With four thrusts of her hand, she locked each of his limbs to the ground. He struggled. Manacles of stone. How had her bending recovered so quickly? Perhaps she had been holding back all along. His arms jerked against his restraints.

She leaned over him, her face still furious. "I wasn't trying to manipulate you!"

"You have been all along," he growled. "Everything has been a careful game to strip me of my defenses, right from the moment you first saved my life."

"Do you really think I'm capable of tactically manipulating anything?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever thought before I acted once in my life. No, Amon. You know why I saved your life? Because I'm the Avatar. It's what I do. I was given this gift by the spirits to keep order and balance in the world, and that sometimes means protecting my enemies if they're going to die before their time. You seem to act as if you have a code of honour, however broken it might be, so maybe you can appreciate that the Avatar has one as well."

_Gift. Balance. Protection. Honour._ The words resonated deep within him. Amon lifted his chin and met her gaze. The fire on the ceiling glowed like a halo around her head. Her eyes, placid and blue, reflected his pinned, helpless form. The smug reflection of his mask made her face even more beautiful by contrast. He stared, transfixed, and his anger melted.

"You're right," she said. "You aren't a monster. You are just woefully misguided: your hurt is blinding you to reality. So I'm going to open your eyes." Her hands flowed in a circle, and the stone at his wrists and ankles dissipated. She stood above him as he sat up. Her posture was so regal that he suddenly felt like the younger of the two. "You blame all benders for what happened to your family. You feel most of all that Avatar Aang didn't do enough to stop the gangs, that he failed to protect your family. You want me to suffer for his mistakes.

"But I meant what I said earlier. I want to fix things. I want everyone to be equal, benders and non-benders alike. I asked you here in the first place to offer you a truce, to take down Tarrlok together. Think of what we could accomplish if we were to work toward the same goals."

She reached out a hand. An offering. "And for all you have suffered, Amon, I am sorry. An Avatar can't save everyone all the time, but even if it's too little, too late, I'm choosing to save you now."

Dozens of emotions paralyzed him: hatred, love, desire, fatigue, anger, hurt, loneliness... He lifted his good hand and clasped hers. She tugged his arm, and he rose.

They stared, faces inches apart, hands still joined, eyes still locked.

"You aren't going to be able to save me," he rasped. "Not the way you want."

"I have to try." Her thumb slid against his palm, electrifying his arm, and this time he didn't fight the sensation.

"Why?"

"I don't know." Her voice was barely a whisper.

_Because we need each other,_  he thought, but the words would not come.

Her lips hung open, a compelling crack of flesh exposed. He raised his fingers to trace it; her eyelids fluttered, and a long breath, damp and hot, slid from her mouth.

The last of his resistance evaporated.

In one fluid movement, he slid the mask a few inches up his face as he lunged down to cover her mouth with his. She gave a small cry of surprise, but then tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her lips parting for him. Her hands slid around him and clawed into his back with strong, painful fingers as she nipped at his tongue.

So that was how it was going to be: always the same power struggle. In response, his hands curled into her hips and he dropped to the ground, yanking her body down with him to land in his lap. He broke the kiss to bite hard on her lower lip, and she gasped, fingers raking his back through his shirt with such ferocity that his skin burned in their wake. His hips began to rock unbidden, and she ground into him, spurring him to crush her torso against his. He gripped her by the throat and bent to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, already aching to be inside her any way that he could.

She broke the kiss, panting. "Take off your mask."

His thumb traced her trachea. "Extinguish the light."

The cavern plunged into darkness, and he tore off his mask and set it aside, then bent to replace his hand at her throat with his mouth. Still grinding into him, she ripped back his hood and raked into his hair as he bit and suckled at the sensitive flesh of her neck, delighting in the groans he received in response.

Already, he was losing himself: the sensation of their rocking hips was growing too intense to bear. The world began to glow white around him and the rushing sounds of wind filled his ears, and he suddenly caught her hips and held her still, every bit of his will focussed on ignoring his body's screams to plummet off the precipice. The urgency faded and he took several slow breaths against her neck, steadying himself.

"Too much for you?" she growled into his ear, punctuating the sentence with a bite.

He slid his nose along her collarbone, breathing in her scent. "You've awakened a hunger in me that begs to be satisfied as urgently as possible."

Her breath hitched, and her nails raked through his scalp, down his neck to his collar. As she felt around, he could tell she was trying to figure out how to undo his tunic.

"Here." He brought her hand to the belt and helped her loosen it, then to the buttons at his throat. The frigid air made his bare skin tingle, and he had a brief lucid thought that shedding clothing on a cold night was unwise, but her hands scraped his chest and all coherent thoughts left him entirely. He gripped the base of her shirt and lifted; she wriggled out of it and tossed it aside. Her chest-binding was more complicated than he expected, and she intervened, unwrapping it herself, then bringing his hands to her breasts and squeezing. They were full and round in his hands, the flesh so soft and perfect that he shoved her back to the ground and bent down to kiss them. Her body arched and she cried out as his tongue found her nipple. He lowered his full weight on to her as his mouth grew rougher, and again nearly lost control when her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands came to his pants and unfastened the buttons. He reluctantly abandoned her breasts to sit up and undress, then worked at the waist of her pants and half-skirt.

Once they were both naked, they lay side-by-side, facing one another, hands tentatively exploring one another's bodies in the darkness. He noticed that she avoided touching his groin directly, and he ached with anticipation. Beneath his touch, the muscles of her abdomen were tense, strained. Her sudden shyness was puzzling after her earlier aggression, and it was making him feel oddly shy as well.

Perhaps if he relinquished the power balance for a bit, she would feel more comfortable. He gripped her sides and rolled onto his back, positioning her to straddle him. His hand smoothed her jaw, then tugged her down for a kiss, this one far more gentle than the others, coaxing her to relax.

"At your pace," he whispered.

He felt her nod. Her fingers trailed down his jaw to his chest, then his abdomen, and finally,  _finally_  she gripped him. His hands clamped around her wrists, clinging to her for support as she began to lower herself onto him. They joined slowly, so agonizingly slowly, and her whimpers melded with his groan. Once fully joined, she paused, and his body quivered with restraint. Was she going to make him beg? Spirits help him, he was about to.

Then she began to move, and the breath he had been holding escaped as a groan. She began to move faster, settling into a rhythm, and he pulled her down to grip and tug and suckle at her breasts, getting more rough as her gasps grew louder. Her pace quickened, her cries rising in pitch, threatening to drag him with her. Then she arched and gave a loud, long moan that made his eyes roll into the back of his head and tested every bit of his self-control. The cry had barely faded when he rolled them over and drove into her again and again, at last unleashing the fervour he had been holding in check. At the last moment, he pulled out and muffled his yell in her neck as wave after wave of pleasure pulled him under.

There were several drowsy moments where he was filled with nothing but satisfaction and warmth before he remembered where he was. The Avatar. He had slept with the Avatar.

He sat up and rolled away from her, reaching for his mask and hood. His elbows ached, the skin abraded from the rock, and the sting was oddly pleasurable. He had just barely fastened his mask into place when she illuminated the cavern.

Korra wouldn't look at him. Instead, she gathered her clothing and began to pull it on one piece at a time. His eyes trailed the curves of her body, trying to convince himself that he hadn't dreamed the whole thing. He pulled on his clothing as well, dark thoughts threatening to tarnish his high.

Once dressed, Korra gathered her knees to her chest. "No one can know of this."

That went without saying. Amon tried to picture how the Equalists would react if they knew he had slept with the Avatar. The afterglow was beginning to fade, and his stomach heaved at the thought.

She finally looked at him, her eyes so sparkly that he thought she might weep. "I can't believe... We shouldn't have done that. That was stupid. So stupid." Her forehead bowed to her knees. "The Avatar just gave her virginity to Amon. To Amon! Tenzin will have my head."

Virginity. That explained a few things. It suddenly occurred to him that if word of this got out, he had a lot more to lose than she. Now, in addition to being the sworn enemy of the benders, he was also the evil man who had deflowered the young Avatar. He cursed softly to himself and lay back. He was exhausted – the illness had done a number on his stamina – but now he wasn't sure he would be able to sleep. He chewed the inside of his lip behind his mask.

"This changes nothing," he said tersely. "Once we are out of this world and back inside that one, everything will be as it was before." He gave her a hard gaze. "This didn't happen."

There was a long pause before her reply. "This didn't happen."

He flinched. Why did the words hurt him? They were his, after all. He stared at the cave ceiling. His body still glowed, his limbs tingling. It had been so long that he had single-mindedly pursued a goal that he did not know how to handle conflicting emotions.

"Amon?" asked Korra, her voice small.

He turned to look at her.

"I don't really want to mention this," she said, "but it is still freezing in here."

A shiver ran through him as he realized how cold he was. He rolled onto his side and she came over, lying down with her back to him. This time when he draped his arm around her, there was no conflict, no electricity - only regret.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture their eventual showdown, tried to imagine himself ending her, and his heart ached.


	4. Giving In

**IV  
Giving In**

Amon awoke drenched in sweat, his heart still pounding from his frenzied dreams. Korra had already left his side, no doubt preparing to start her day of work on the tunnel. His stomach rumbled, but he couldn't bear the thought of eating any more seaweed. Instead, he staggered toward the pool. The Avatar's scent was still all over him, and it was making his head spin. At least this morning he had recovered well enough to be able to walk, if slowly. That was one positive development in this mess.

He rounded the corner of the tunnel and stopped as Korra's bare feet disappeared beneath the surface of the water. His eyes snapped to her neatly-folded clothes by the side of the pool. He debated with himself: step away and give her some privacy? Try to tip the power balance back in his favour by embarrassing her? Approach her as a lover? His indecision paralyzed him – not something he was accustomed to – and she surfaced again, a smile on her face. It faded as their eyes locked, and then her cheeks reddened as she looked away.

"You might as well come in," she said. "I'm almost done."

He watched her, trying to discern the tone behind her words.

"I mean, I guess there's no point in being ashamed of being naked around each other now," she added, chancing a peek up at him.

If he was honest with himself, he liked the idea. He moved to the side of the pool and turned his back to her, stripping down to everything but his mask. At first, the splashes still indicated that she was continuing to play in the water, but then he felt her watching. No doubt she was studying the scars that marred his body, trying to determine what had caused them.

He slipped into the cold water, the shock invigorating his muscles and tingling his skin. Dunking his head under, he combed his fingers through his hair, shaking the water out of his mask without unbuckling it.

Korra swam closer to him, still studying him. He met her gaze with even eyes.

"You have fire nation ancestry, don't you?" she asked.

He stiffened. "My parents were non-benders."

"I've heard the propaganda. But of fire nation heritage, right? Your eyes are yellow, and your hair and skin-"

"You ask too many questions, Avatar."

She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "It's just – I don't know anything about you, except that you've declared war against everything I stand for. I don't even know your real name."

"What does it matter?" he asked. "Even though I have your real name, I don't use it. Our careers demand that we maintain that distance."

"Mmm, yes. You've chosen to keep things very professional." She floated on her back, her hands sculling idly on either side of her body, and his eyes were drawn to her glistening breasts. Just like his dream. Heat rose to his face, and he was grateful for the mask.

"Anyone ever tell you that you are a considerate lover, Amon?"

Had he been sitting any lower in the water, he would have choked on it. "Pardon?"

Her eyes sparkled, and he could tell she was trying intentionally to disarm him. "That moment when you gave me that gentle kiss, told me to take control." A smile slid across her lips and she closed her eyes, still floating on her back. "That was surprisingly sweet of you. If I didn't know better, I'd think you genuinely cared."

Maybe he had, in that moment. Her eyes slid open again and fixed on him, shining with hope, and he realized that he still did. The thought should outrage or terrify him, but instead it was comfortable.

Surrendering, he paddled idly to her side and floated on his back beside her. "I told you, I am no monster. You have not yet seen how gentle I can be."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "'Yet?' I thought that nothing had changed and it was a one-time mistake."

"Only once we are outside the cave. We're still here, are we not? And if I'm going to forever traumatize the Avatar by dishonouring her, I might as well make the memory so spectacular that it will haunt her forever."

"That sounds like a promise rather than a threat." She tugged his hand and began to swim toward the ledge; as they climbed out, she pulled him on top of her. Their bodies were still slick with water, their skin sliding easily against one another as he lifted up his mask just enough to kiss her.

Though it had been surreal to have frantic, desperate sex with his worst enemy the night before, it was even harder to wrap his head around the idea that they were making love. Her fingers, all nails the night before, glided across his skin, raising goose bumps in their wake. Once she extinguished the light, he removed his mask and kissed a line down her muscled abdomen, then lower. A shuddering moan escaped from her mouth, and he wished for the light so that he could see the expression that matched it. He let her cries guide his mouth, adjusting his movements to cause as much pleasure as he could. When he was satisfied that he had taken her as far as he could without tipping her over the edge, he dragged his tongue back up her abdomen to her neck, then caught her mouth for a deep kiss.

Korra surprised him by tracing the same path down his body, and he gasped at the warmth of her mouth when it reached its destination. After a few more moments of attention, she lifted her head.

"Your moans sound...surprised."

"You claimed to be innocent," he managed, amazed at her skill.

Her voice suggested a smirk and a raised brow: "I said I was a virgin, not innocent." She returned to her work, and his eyes rolled back into his head. When he could take it no more and his resolve threatened to give way entirely, he stopped her. She crawled back up his body and their lips met again, then she rolled, pulling him on top of her. They moved together, lips barely touching, breathing in one another's groans, until the sensations began to crest. He cupped her face as she cried out, as if to shield her from anything that might dampen her pleasure, and found himself following immediately after.

They lay together after the last cries faded, hands joined on his chest, her cheek on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. Here, in the hazy warmth after lovemaking, they were not Avatar and Equalist, just man and woman.

"This is all very confusing," whispered Korra. "I feel as if I'm in some sort of bizarre dream right now."

"There is a thing to be said for living in the moment without questioning it."

"Are you politely telling me to shut up?"

"No." He smiled to himself. "You truly do not know how to simply be, do you, Avatar?"

She snorted, twirling her fingers in the faint smattering of hair on his chest. "Everyone always talks about feeling the moment, but I can't even meditate to save my life. And don't you think we're at the point where you can call me by name instead of 'Avatar'?"

"Meditation is attainable by anyone if approached correctly," he said softly, ignoring the second part of her statement. "One simply pays attention to all the details until they cease to matter and meld into great peace. It is the truest form of living in the moment." His free hand – still sluggish from its injuries – smoothed over her face. "Close your eyes. Feel the heat radiating between our skin. Trace it with your mind as it darts lazily between us, moving in slow arcs. Listen to your breath, to mine. To the beating of our hearts. Feel the cool, damp cave floor across your back. Taste and smell the world around you, assigning it colours and shapes in your mind. Watch them blend together, soften, fade."

He felt her relax beside him, melt into him. His own breaths began to slow.

"How can a man who brings me such stress also bring me such peace?" she whispered.

Amon understood completely. He envisioned himself plucking the memory from his mind, encasing it in a box and storing it deep within his heart. No matter what happened, that moment would always be theirs.

 


	5. Freedom

**V  
Freedom**

At the end of another full day of bending, Korra returned to the camp, covered in dirt. Her mouth hung in a frown and her eyes were downcast as she sat beside Amon. He watched, waiting for her to speak.

"I've reached the end of the rubble," she said. "The rest is just the soft earth from the landslide. I can probably get through it in less than an hour. Maybe minutes."

It should have been welcome news, but his heart sank.

She sat cross-legged and rubbed her forehead with both hands. "It's not too late for you to admit that bending is not purely evil, Amon. If you and I ally to take down Tarrlok and the Red Monsoons, then I'm sure I can make a strong argument for your crimes to be forgiven. You could lead a normal life." She glanced at him, her face timid, as if she were afraid of offending him with her suggestion. "Or you could just change masks and disappear into the crowd."

He met her gaze. "Are you willing to give up your bending?"

She recoiled. "Of course not."

"Then why would you expect me to give up my ideals?"

"Hasn't our time together shown you that bending is not inherently evil? That you don't need to take everyone's bending away?"

"There is no viable alternative."

With a sigh, she flopped back onto the stone, folding her arms behind her head. "I figured you'd say that. I just had to try, one last time." Her eyes closed. "So tomorrow, we go back to trying to kill one another?"

His eyes drifted down her beautiful body and he wondered if he was still up to the task. It was the cave, he told himself, hoping it was true. Everything would go back to normal once he set foot out of this cave.

"My nightmares are going to be really confusing now," she added. The thought of her screaming his name in fear made him frown.

He rolled onto his side to regard her. "I do not wish to be your monster any longer, Korra."

The use of her name caught her attention; her eyes opened wide.

"Your adversary, yes," he continued, "but not your monster. And so I give you a promise: our showdown is still inevitable, but I promise you that I will give you fair warning. You will know it is coming. All of Republic City will know." He stared intently at her. "Anytime you see me between now and then, you can rest assured that your bending is safe."

Her return gaze was hard. "What about my friends?"

"I cannot guarantee their safety."

"If you attack them, I will fight you."

"And my friends may retaliate. So will I, if I feel that you are putting my life at risk. But otherwise, I will not harm you."

She looked at the ceiling again. "Well, that's comforting," she said with heavy sarcasm. Sitting up, she added, "I guess I should go finish the tunnel now. It will be nice to eat something that isn't seaweed."

"Perhaps it is best to wait for morning," he said. "You are no doubt tired, and we both need to make the journey back to our homes once we have been freed." If there was a home to go to, he realized with a frown. An earthquake strong enough to bring down a mountain might have done some real damage to Republic City.

Korra was still staring at the tunnel. "Won't one more night just make us get even more attached?"

His voice soft, he replied, "I think the damage has already been done."

She nodded, her hand reaching behind her to find his.

.*.*.*.

The earth shuddered. Amon untangled himself from Korra's limbs and sat up, eyes darting around him even before she had raised a light. Once the flames flared to life, she pressed her ear to the earth.

"An aftershock?" he asked.

"Benders." She sat up. "They're digging toward us!"

Their eyes locked.

"We could form an alliance," she tried again.

He lifted the bottom of his mask and pulled her in for a long kiss. She melted against his front, her hands pulling in his shoulders, her tongue sliding against his, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment.

Instead, he broke the kiss, brushed a hand against her cheek, stood and walked away. Pressing against the wall of the tunnel that led to the pool, he let the darkness swallow him.

Just in time. A stream of light flooded the tunnel that Korra had been digging. It enveloped Korra, made her glow so brightly that he had to shield his eyes.

"Korra?" called a male voice.

She jumped to her feet, beaming. "Bolin! Lin!"

Several figures streamed in through the tunnel. The earthbending boy from the Fire Ferrets ran forward to gather her in a hug, while the former police chief stood back and looked pleased, if reserved. The airbender Tenzin was there as well, and the firebender and Sato's daughter, and a giant polar bear dog.

"Are you okay?" asked Tenzin, rushing up to her. "There were some Equalists further down the mountain. We were worried they were holding you hostage."

So his men hadn't abandoned him after all; they just hadn't been able to figure out what to do next to free him. Amon wasn't sure whether that made him happy or frustrated. At least he might be able to find a ride home.

"No, I'm fine," said Korra. "The earthquake caved in the only entrance, and it was difficult to tunnel through. Is Republic City okay?"

"The earthquake did a bit of damage," said Sato's daughter, "but Tarrlok is doing more."

"We found the first drafts of your note and finally figured out where you were meeting Amon," said Bolin. "Sorry it took so long, but you really covered your tracks."

"Did he hurt you?" demanded the firebender.

Korra shook her head. "He was reasonable. I think, deep down, he truly believes what he preaches. He just doesn't know how to do it any other way than through threats and violence." After a thoughtful pause, she added, "I don't know if I got through to him, but I think I gave him plenty to think about."

Amon pressed flat against the wall.

"Let's get out of here," added Korra. "I can't bear to spend another minute in this cave."

They filed out, one at a time, the Avatar last. She cast one last look in Amon's direction, then her eyes dropped and she departed. The last of her flames licked out against the ceiling roof, then died.

Amon stared after her, hollow and cold.

When he was certain that enough time had passed, he walked unsteadily toward the tunnel. He was looking forward to getting his strength back properly, and to continuing his campaign. No doubt there were progress updates awaiting him at headquarters.

He did not stop to look back at the cave. It was behind him. Pushing through the tunnel, he told himself that the moment he set foot on the soil outside, he would shed these emotions creating turmoil in his stomach. He would cease to be the man who had fallen for the Avatar and would return to being Amon, leader of the Equalists.

The light was almost blinding now. His foot pressed into sun-soaked soil, and he stood tall.

Though he was body was free, his heart was still heavy.


	6. Meeting

**VI**

**Meeting**

_One month later._

Korra wiped the sweat from her brow and stepped into the hallway. She should be accustomed to infiltrating Equalist bases by now, but this one felt especially dangerous. Normally, there were just banners with Amon's face staring at her – staring through her, stirring up memories she had tried to forget – but this particular mission had been too intimate. Upstairs, they had come across an office that looked suspiciously like an office belonging to the Equalist leader himself. Plans, charts, and scrolls had been confiscated, some with her name on them.

What made her nervous was how obvious it had been. Amon was not one to leave loose ends; it would be sloppy of him to let them find his top-secret plans. She had no doubts that the office was a decoy. But for what?

Even more telling was the fact that there had been barely any Equalists guarding the area, and no police presence on the scanner. This felt like a trap. So, while Lin had begun to pull apart the office, she had offered to check out the basement floor. Asami was ahead of her, glove bared, and Mako and Bolin had headed in the opposite direction.

The ceiling was low and the walls were metal, the floor a grate over dirt. She shivered; being in cave-like areas still gave her flashbacks, and she shoved the swell of emotions back into her mind to deal with later. The further they ventured into the empty space, the more Korra became convinced that this was not the hideout they thought it was.

"There's nothing here," she called, finally relaxing her stance.

"I think you're right." At the end of the hallway, Asami stood up as well, her hand dropping to her side. "I've reached a dead end, anyway, and there's no obvious sign of any secret panels that I can see." She jogged past Korra, calling, "I'm going to go see if the boys need any help."

"Sounds good." Korra stretched, suddenly realizing how late it was. She wanted nothing more than to be out of this barren tunnel and in bed. "I'll go back up to the office and see if Lin found anything."

Asami nodded and bounded ahead, disappearing from view. With a long sigh, Korra shook her head. "Always two steps ahead, Amon." She began to walk back toward the stairs.

A hand clasped over her mouth and jerked her into a small alcove in the wall.

Korra tried – and failed – to scream. She drove a fist back at her attacker, launching a fireball. Sharp jabs stabbed her shoulder, and her arm fell slack.

Her attacker swung her around to face him, still gripping her mouth, and she stared straight into Amon's mask. Joy and fear strangled her, and she struggled to breathe.

"My apologies for the poor hospitality." His hand lifted from her mouth. "I usually prefer to offer my guests a glass of wine rather than ambush them, but as you can see, my cellar is empty."

She stared into the black eye sockets of his mask, his eyes completely cloaked in the near-darkness. Her first instinct was to yell for her friends, but then she remembered his promise: he would not harm her, but he might harm them.

"Nice decoy you have here, Amon," she said.

"Do you like it? I put in a lot of attention to detail. Some of what you have found is real. Some of it is not. I'll leave it to you to decipher which is which."

Standing tall, she pressed her face close to his, intending to intimidate him. Instead she breathed in his scent, and her mouth went dry. Clearing her throat, she said, "So you're distracting us from something – what?"

"You'll find out soon enough." She felt his gaze trail down her body, and panicked as she realized she liked the attention.

"What are you doing?" she snapped. "Don't look at me like that."

"Just entertaining a pleasant memory."

"A memory that never happened." Flustered, she added, "I thought everything was back to normal." As normal as it could be, anyway. As much as she was trying to move on, he still haunted her dreams, and not in the terrifying ways he once had.

"Back to normal," he repeated. "Then tell me, Avatar, why you hunted me here, when we both know that Tarrlok is the bigger threat."

Her cheeks grew hot. "That has nothing to do with you! We were searching for one of Tarrlok's agents, and we just happened to see the banners through the window, so-"

"But this isn't the first time you've poked your nose in my business as of late, is it?" He leaned close, looming over her from the shadows of the recess. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, she could see his eyes through the mask; they were hard. Cold. "I don't like it."

"You seem to like it enough to stay here talking to me," she said.

"Did you consider that I lured you here to warn you that you are trying my patience?"

"Or maybe you lured me here because you're desperate to see me again," she challenged. "You just don't want to admit it because you don't want to admit how much power those memories have over you." She jutted her jaw and glared up at him, half hating him, half hoping she was correct.

His eyes softened, ticking between hers. "And what of you, Korra?" he murmured.

"It never happened," she said, but her voice broke. It was agony to be so close to him without actually touching him; in the cool basement air, she could feel waves of heat streaming off his body. She suddenly realized that her eyes had been trailing his body for several second, her mouth hanging open in an embarrassingly obvious display of longing. She quickly snapped her gaze back to his, wondering if he had noticed.

He had.

Their eyes had barely made contact when he lunged for her, shifting his mask, and his lips pressed to hers. The force of it slammed against the wall, sandwiched her between his warm weight and the cold packed earth. Her mouth parted for him and their tongues slid together. Spirits, how she had missed this. Her hand gripped the neck of his tunic and twisted into the fabric, and a low rumble sounded in his throat.

"We've searched everywhere – there's nothing here," called Mako's voice from far down the hall, startling Korra into breaking the kiss.

Amon pulled back and smoothed his mask back into place. "I must apologize again for my hospitality, for a different reason this time."

She blinked at him as if clearing away a dream. "No, wait-"

"Until next time, Korra." Amon's hand darted out, too quick for her to see, and jabbed a pressure point in her neck. She slumped to the ground as darkness overcame her.

.*.*.*.

"Korra!" Bolin rushed up to her, his silhouette foggy. She groaned and sat up, blinking to clear her vision. Pabu leaped down from his shoulder and pawed at her leg; she patted the fire ferret on the head.

"Korra, are you okay?" asked Bolin as he crouched beside her.

"Did you see Amon?"

"Amon? He's here?" His face paled and his eyes darted around them. "Is this a trap?"

She clutched her aching shoulder. Had it really been necessary to knock her out? She supposed it would have been tempting to follow him. "It's a decoy. He said some of the information is real and some isn't. I think he's trying to keep us busy here while the Equalists launch an attack elsewhere."

Her friend reached out a hand to help her up. Behind him, Mako and Asami appeared, their faces concerned until she reassured them that she was fine.

"So where is he attacking?" asked Mako as the four began to jog upstairs.

Their answer was waiting for them on the main floor. Lin was speaking with a member of her former police force upstairs, her face drawn. When she saw Korra, she cocked her head for Korra to hurry over.

"This place is a decoy," called Korra as she jogged over to Lin.

"So it seems." The woman folded her arms over her chest, frowning. "The Equalists hit a Red Monsoon hangout. Nearly two-dozen gang members were captured – low-level members. A man who escaped claims that they were all being taken to Amon to have their bending removed."

"Unfortunately," said the officer at the door, "we have absolutely no leads as to where they have been taken. We have animal teams on the ground trying to track them. Nothing so far."

Anger, fear and – oddly – betrayal welled in Korra's throat. She buried her face in her hand. "Always two steps ahead."

"Amon was downstairs," said Bolin. "He attacked Korra and disappeared."

Lin stood tall, her eyes wide. "We have to perform a sweep of the area and-"

"We won't find him. He wanted to gloat and disappear." Korra gestured back at the desks. "He said some of these documents are real, so maybe there's something in here that can help us out."

"If there is anything real," said Asami, "guaranteed it's a half-truth that will lead us right into a trap."

Korra marched over to the desk and found a bound stack of papers:  _The Life of Amon._  "It will make for entertaining reading, if nothing else," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she snatched it up. She pulled out a chair and began to flip through it.

Lin turned back to the officer. "I know Tarrlok's agenda will take priority if you are to maintain your cover, but if there is any way you can get a task force to track Amon from here-"

"I can try, ma'am," said the officer. "You should probably take what you need and disappear. The search is spreading, and it will be in this neighbourhood soon enough." He saluted.

"You don't have to salute anymore."

"I know." With a bob of his head at Korra, the officer departed.

"Well, now what?" Bolin sat in a chair next to Korra.

"I guess we start trying to piece together whatever we can find in these papers." She cocked her head at another stack of documents. "Interested in reading a little propaganda tonight? There's plenty up for grabs, if you can stomach it."

As her companions bent over the table, pawing through the literature, she began to leaf through  _The Life of Amon_. A glossy page fell out with his mask emblazoned on it, and a shiver ran through her body.

_Curse you, Amon._

The pads of her fingers skated over her mouth and her eyes fluttered closed.

.*.*.*.

Amon silently watched the skyline pass by, half-listening as his third-in-command briefed him on the situation.

"We had two dozen, but one escaped," said his third. "We tried to corner him, but he caught us off guard. Only way would have been to kill him, and there were too many civilians watching."

"That's fine," murmured Amon, still looking out the window of the skycraft. His hands clasped behind his back. "Twenty-three is a sufficiently strong message." He could see Air Temple Island across the bay, its proud spires unmistakeable. Tarrlok's police force had already started swarming the neighbourhood when he had slipped out to meet his transport. Had the Avatar made it back home safely? The thought of Tarrlok apprehending her made his blood boil.

"We arranged to have them dropped off at warehouse 236A, where they will be arranged so that you can perform the cleansing," continued his third, and her voice trailed off. "Amon?"

He blinked, remembering himself, and turned back to regard her. "Thank you. I wish to have a moment to myself before we arrive, to enter the correct frame of mind."

"Of course." With a respectful nod, she backed out of the chamber and closed the door.

Pressing his palm to the glass, Amon let his head loll gently from side to side, trying to ease the tension in his neck. The nights were difficult. By day, he was fully immersed in his plans as always, leaving no room to second-guess himself. But at night... The Avatar haunted his dreams, sometimes as a lover, sometimes as a fierce adversary he could not defeat. He didn't know which was worse.

Her guess had been correct: he had been waiting to see her. If he admitted it to himself, he missed her. The bond they had formed in the cave was stronger than any he had formed since childhood. Loneliness had never been a problem before – he had long ago embraced the lifestyle of a solitary avenger – but now that he knew what he was missing, it was hard to go without.

Besides, her proposal to team up to take down Councilman Tarrlok was looking more and more appealling. Tarrlok had outlived his usefulness. While his regime had initially driven thousands of non-benders to the Equalist cause, increasingly harsh penalties were starting to hurt their numbers. If the regime was not ended soon, the Equalists would suffer.

But he couldn't do it alone.

He had heard rumours of Tarrlok's bloodbending abilities, ones that potentially extended to elite members of the Red Monsoon. The rumours were vague whispers at best, but he knew one person who would have more detail: Korra.

He needed to speak to her again, somewhere where they wouldn't be interrupted. And this time, he needed to keep his primal urges in check, as challenging as that was proving to be. Their relationship was complicated enough as it was.

He closed his eyes, his lips still burning from her kiss.


	7. Distraction

**VII  
Distraction**

Amon stood before the first of the condemned, his voice still echoing in the enormous warehouse. The man's eyes were wide with fear, sweat beading on his forehead, and he wrenched against the arms of the Equalists who held him down. Amon stared down the nose of his mask, casting a shadow on the captive's face for dramatic effect. Behind him, twenty-two other men and women stared at him with wide eyes, pinned down by Equalists themselves.

"And so," continued Amon, wrapping up his speech, "the time has arrived for you to be cleansed of your impurity." He strode several paces back and turned, preparing for the duel, as one of his men generously set an open barrel of water next to the captive.

At Amon's nod, the captive was released.

The captive panicked and shot a stream of ice shards before him. Amon ducked and dodged, easily darting through the fray to close the distance, and rolled to the captive's back. A tap at the rear of the captive's neck was enough to bring the man to his knees. Raising his fingers to the sky, Amon channelled energy into them.

"Don't," said Korra's voice.

He froze. His eyes darted around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. Around him, his followers hunched, waiting with anticipation. Below him, the Red Monsoon gang member was shivering, his eyes wide. No one seemed to have noticed a voice.

With great focus, he began to lower his thumb toward the man's forehead.

Korra's face appeared in his mind's eye, her eyes wide and impossibly blue as a tear trailed down her cheek. "Don't," she whispered.

He whirled. There was confusion on the faces of those around him now, but no Avatar. How was this happening? Was he dreaming?

A shard of ice sliced through his arm, its freezing pain a reminder that he was awake. He whirled to see that his would-be victim had slipped out from under him and crouched in a fighting stance, his face frenzied.

"You will not take me, monster!" cried the captive, aiming.

Amon calmly reached out, gripped the man's wrist and redirected the blast of water harmlessly at the ceiling, then twisted his arm. The man yelped and sank to his knees beneath the pressure. This time, Amon did not milk the ceremony. He pressed his thumb directly into the captive's forehead, channelling his energy into the chi point to permanently end his bending. The man's eyes widened with shock, and then he slumped to the floor.

Amon stood over him, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard. Then he turned and marched out of the warehouse, ignoring the confused murmurs of his followers.

His third-in-command and his lieutenant hurried after him, but he ignored them. Only once he had rounded the corner and they were out of view of the crowd did he stop. His fingertips pressed to his forehead as he tried to regain his composure.

"Amon?" asked his third tentatively.

"I am still weaker than expected from my injuries last month," he said, not looking at her. "I will continue my work tomorrow." He gritted his teeth. The Avatar had somehow gotten inside his head, tainted his conscience. It was clear that she was going to be on his mind until he got this meeting about Councilman Tarrlok over with. Only once those details were arranged could he put her aside and forget about her.

"What shall we do with the captives?" asked his lieutenant.

"Throw them back in the cell. I shall attend to them tomorrow."

"And the newly purified? Release him?"

Amon shook his head. "No. Put him with the others as a reminder of what is to come. Let the captives stew in their fear. Let the Red Monsoon tremble as they wonder what fate has befallen their twenty-three missing." He turned to his third. "I need transport. Classified."

She shot him a look as if he had gone mad. "You know it's nearly midnight, right?"

"It is urgent." He steeled his gaze. His immediate staff had been watching him warily since the incident at the cave, no doubt worried that he was stumbling into another dangerous situation. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

At last, his stare won out; she dropped her eyes and shook her head. "Very well. I'll send a pilot to the hangar."

.*.*.*.

The half-moon was bright in the sky when Team Avatar returned to Air Temple Island, and Korra's head spun from all the propaganda she had read during the ride home. Tales of Amon speaking with spirits and carrying on their message swirled in her head. How much of that did he believe? How much did she?

As they walked into the temple, Bolin leaned close. "I could use a walk. Interested?" It had become something of a tradition of late, on nights when neither of them could sleep: they would walk to the cliff and stare over the ocean, the conversation deep. Sometimes, Mako and Asami would join them. Sometimes there was no conversation, just a sense of togetherness as they stared over the bay. Korra loved those moments; she had never before had a close friendship with people her age. When she was younger, Katara had regaled her with tales from Avatar Aang's day, stories of friendship and camaraderie and drama that Korra could only dream of in her isolated location. Slowly, with her group of friends here in Republic City, she was building her own tales, and she relished those shared nights.

That night, however, she was exhausted, so she shook her head. "I think I'm going to go pass out instead."

"Okay." Bolin looked a little disappointed, but smiled. "Maybe I'll swing by a little later. Leave your door open if you're having trouble sleeping, and we'll talk."

"Of course." She smiled at him, then called a quick goodnight to everyone before she padded into the temple. A quick inquiry with an acolyte revealed that Tenzin was already sleeping, thankfully. She was too tired to debrief him on everything they had seen – and she wasn't certain she could talk about meeting Amon yet without her blush giving away what had actually happened. On her way to her room, she passed by the girls' room and saw that Naga was sleeping with them, a habit she had developed recently. Korra didn't mind. With Tarrlok's barely-suppressed bid for dominance, it was important to keep the newest generation of airbenders safe.

She opened the door to her room and closed it behind her, then lifted her arm to call forth a puff of flame as a light.

Amon's face was inches from hers.

Korra clapped her free hand over her mouth and swallowed a shriek, staggering backwards. The corners of the mouth of his mask, permanently etched in a smirk, seemed to mirror the sparkle in his eyes. Certain her eyes were playing tricks on her, she reached out to pat his arm, assuring that it was real.

"Good evening, Avatar," he whispered.

She snuffed out the light. "What the hell are you doing here?" she said, trying to keep her voice low.

"I thought you might wish to discuss the feat that my followers achieved tonight."

"You wanted to gloat, so you just hid in my room and waited for me? Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

"Asking to be let in through the front door was not an option," he replied.

"What were you thinking, coming here?" Her eyes widened and she gripped his collar. "Did you hurt anyone?"

"No." He did not flinch under her grasp.

His scent, clean and warm, began to seep into her nostrils, making her giddy, and her lips burned to re-enact the kiss from earlier that night. Trying to hold on to her anger, she twisted her hands, tightening her grip to pull his face closer to her level. "You stripped the bending of twenty-three people today!"

"Criminals," he corrected. "Red Monsoon, at that. We may not be working together as closely as you dreamed, but we are working in tandem. If you release me, we can discuss this civilly." He gripped her wrists and tugged her away from his throat.

She jerked her hands out of his grasp. "I don't approve of your methods."

"Republic City is better off without those bullies."

Korra hesitated. He had a point, but he was missing hers. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't be here. And you don't have the right to decide who is worthy of having bending and who doesn't."

"You are correct. That is why I must be even-handed and remove all bending, eventually. I just prefer to start with those who abuse their powers the most."

"Twenty-three people!" she said, her voice rising.

"You may wish to keep your voice down," he replied softly. "And no, not all of them yet. It is tiring work. My code of honour dictates that each one have the chance to best me in battle first, and it is exhausting to have so many battles in one day. I am, to some extent, still recovering from my wounds from the cave."

_The cave_. Words that were taboo. "The cave didn't happen," she growled through clenched teeth.

A knock sounded at her door. "Korra? You okay?" Bolin. She glanced at Amon, but the space he had occupied was already empty. How did he move so seamlessly? The hair on her neck stood on end. Padding to the door, she opened it. Bolin's face was worried, his eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" Her friend tried to peer inside; she stood in the door frame.

"Of course. Why?"

"Just came by to see if you were up for that walk, and thought I heard voices."

"I had the radio on." Trying to laugh it off, she added, "I was trying to talk back at it."

His voice lowered. "It sounded like Amon's voice."

No point in lying any more than she had to. "It was. He's talking about the gang members he kidnapped today. So I decided to give him an earful from here." She wondered how to politely shove him out the door.

Bolin cocked a brow. "Maybe instead of yelling at the talking box, you should try to get some rest. You had a long day."

"So did you."

"Yeah, well...there are a few things on my mind."

Korra could tell he wanted to talk about it, but she could feel Amon's eyes on her from somewhere in the room. Where, she couldn't tell.

"Let's talk tomorrow, Bolin. We'll have a breakfast date at the cliff. I really need some sleep."

"Okay." He smiled. "Come find me if you change your mind."

.*.*.*.

Amon watched from the shadows, a foreign emotion burning his throat as he watched the two interact - jealousy? Ridiculous. He had no claim over her. He turned his head away from the scene, not allowing himself to consider it for a moment longer. As he turned, movement in his peripheral vision - what little he had with the mask on, anyway - caught his attention from outside the window. The moon was bright enough to illuminate the bushes outside, and one was still swaying.

"Goodnight, Bolin," said Korra.

"Goodnight," came the voice from outside the door.

She closed the door, then turned. Amon stood tall and cocked his head at the window. "Do your acolytes tend to skulk in the bushes?" he whispered.

"No."

"Then someone may be watching you."

Korra marched to the window and stuck her head through it, looking around. Then she shook her head. "It was probably just Pabu. He goes out at night sometimes, and he wasn't with Bolin." She closed the shutters, though some light still streamed in through the cracks. The faint light cast her skin in blue-grey, so smooth that it rivalled the porcelain of his mask, and her irises shone so brightly that they nearly glowed. He realized that he was holding his breath, and softly let it out again.

"It seems you and the earth bender boy have grown close," he said, nodding at the door.

She peered at him, incredulous. "Are you...jealous?"

"It is relevant. If word of our encounter has reached anyone's ears, even your closest friend-"

"Are you kidding? Why would I tell anyone?" Folding her arms over her chest, she added, "Why are you here?"

His mind blanked as her breasts strained against the pressure of her arms. His eyes closed.  _Focus._ Ah, yes: Tarrlok.

"Your words of an alliance have become more appealing as time has passed." He moved to sit on the bed, facing her. "I am here because I wish to work to the same goal. Officially."

Her eyes narrowed. "You attacked two dozen people today, Amon. How can I be allies with a man who does such horrible things?"

"Because I can provide what you cannot: a permanent solution to Councilman Tarrlok and his ilk."

"I don't like your solution."

"It is the one that your predecessor used on Firelord Ozai, is it not?"

By her sigh, he could tell that she had no argument. She moved to sit beside him, a strip of moonlight from the cracks in the window streaking down her face and body. "So why team up with me?"

"Because you are the only one who has seen Tarrlok's bloodbending first hand and lived to tell about it." Amon shifted to regard her. "I have heard the legends. I know that my particular skill set will be useless against a bloodbender. But with your help, with your information, I may be able to create technology to equalize the playing field."

"So that you can later use that technology against me?"

"No. When the time comes, Avatar, I will face you head on. No tricks."

Her knees bounced. "I'm not buying that you came all the way out here just to ask me to tell you a story about Tarrlok's bloodbending."

She was correct. Now that he had laid out his alliance, he could see what was really driving him. The conflict that had been tearing at him since he had set foot outside of that cave was coming to a head. Maybe that was for the best - he thought of his paralysis during the cleansing earlier that night. Whatever there was between them, it was slowly corroding his goals. It had to be addressed.

"Korra," he said, his voice soft, and when she turned to look at him with her beautiful moonlit eyes, his voice cracked: "I am accustomed to emotionally distancing myself from my past, using it to fuel my resolve rather than weigh me down. But there is one memory I cannot shake. It is on my mind since its inception, always, distracting me and agitating me." Staring intently at her, he added, "I am here to address it."

"You're talking about what happened with us?"

"Yes."

Her eyes were damp, her brows pinched. "We agreed that nothing happened," she accused.

"I'm aware of that."

"It was your choice for us to be at war!" Her voice was rising again; she quickly hushed it, hissing the next words: "You are the one who insisted things would return to normal."

"And they haven't."

"Of course they haven't! Not with you kissing me the way you did. Not with you stalking me to my room, pouring your heart out to try to sway me - or to manipulate me into trusting you so that I'll help you. I can't figure out which. What are you trying to get out of me, Amon?"

"Closure," he realized, the reasons suddenly crystallizing. "I want to end this."

Her eyes narrowed. "So end it."

He hesitated.

"You can't, can you?" she said. "Your feelings have gotten away on you." Her eyes dropped away from his gaze. "And so have mine."

They sat side-by-side on the bed, silent, their breaths the only sound in the small room. She pulled her legs to her chest.

"It doesn't make sense," she whispered, her voice muffled by her knees. "You stand for everything I hate. So why can't I stop thinking about you?"

"Because we are two complementing halves. Yin and yang." The words hung in the air.

Chancing a sideways glance at her, he saw a tear trailing down her cheek. Tears were normally not enough to faze him – most benders cried when he cleansed them – but this one made his heart ache. He reached out a hand and delicately smoothed the tear away with his thumb, afraid to breathe lest any movement startle her away.

She caught his hand and nuzzled into it, her breath hot against his skin. The warmth shot up his arm and down his torso, settling in his groin.

"I hate that even your hand against my skin is enough to drive me crazy," she mumbled into his palm. "I hate how badly I need you."

He silently agreed. Even the innocent puffs of her breath in his hand were making his mind grow hazy.

"Do you need me too, Amon?" she whispered. Her tongue wrapped around a finger, warm and slick, and the surprise of the gesture shocked an honest response out of him:

"Yes," he breathed. Spirits, did he need her. She ran her tongue up his finger and pulled it into her mouth, her teeth scraping the sensitive pads. Her eyes, heavily lidded, held his gaze, and a low groan escaped from his mouth. He was paralysed, transfixed by her suggestive expression.

Releasing him with her mouth, but not her eyes, she straddled him and eased him back to the bed. She slowly pressed her lips to the mask as if it were his face, and then her fingers curled around its base – the first person he had allowed to touch it since it have been created – and edged it up. Once his mouth was exposed, she dragged her lips lightly across his, the feather-light contact agonizing, their breath mingling between them. Her body hovered inches above him, close enough that he could feel its heat. He heard himself groan again, as if from a long way away. Both humiliated and enraptured by the effect she was having on him, he caught her wrists, intending to reclaim some control. She surprised him by delivering a long, slow kiss that left him breathless. Then, she lowered his mask back into place.

"Leave the mask on," she said. "I want to see you the way I see you in my dreams."

Heat flooded Amon's face and his hands reflexively tightened around her wrists. He had never expected the Avatar to be so seductive, so demanding. Giving in to his body's urges, he rolled her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, and pressed his body between her legs. Her head rolled back and her legs wrapped around his waist.

He began to rock gently against her, both still fully clothed. Her head tossed and she fought to jerk her wrists from his grasp, but he held them tightly with one hand, freeing the other to drop down to her breast. The pace was agonizing to bear even for him, but he kept it deliberately slow, torturing her with the same anticipation she had been building for him. Her eyes screwed shut and her breaths grew harsh, half-moans. She met his movements, urging him to hasten the pace, then suddenly her face split in a silent scream and she arched off the bed. At last, he could see her face in throes of pleasure, beautiful and strained, and he tried to memorize every detail. After several seconds, she relaxed, and he cupped her cheek. Her eyelids parted.

"I am yours, Amon. Tell me how you want me."

The words rocketed through him, settled in his core. His voice was harsh: "Undress and roll onto your front."

Together they pulled off her clothes and she rolled onto all fours. He freed himself and fell into place behind her, both of them crying out as they joined. At first, he ran his hands along her silhouette, feeling the curves of her ribs, waist and hips, but then he found himself longing for more contact. He bent over, pressing his chest to her back; one hand snaked around to her breasts, the other nestling between her legs. They moved in unison, her body strong and solid and soft all at once beneath him, and he found that he was losing control over his pace. As they moved faster, she began to whimper and, though he longed to make her yell, he raised his hands from her breasts to cover her mouth her lest she wake up any of her neighbours. She gave a final muffled cry, biting his hand in her pleasure, and the sensation pulled him over the edge. He barely had time to pull out before pleasure engulfed his mind, and he struggled to stifle the yell that tried to escape his lips.

He came to with his forehead pressed to her back, his hands on her hips. Sweat dripped down his temples behind the mask. When he pulled away, Korra rolled onto her back, her hand draped across her forehead. Her hair fanned behind her, half of it scattered from her normal ponytails. Her eyelids were heavy and her mouth hung open a crack, her lips dark and moist. Still dazed, Amon ran a hand along her jaw and down her naked body, enamoured with every detail.

"I hope you found what you came here looking for, Amon." Her lips curled into a lazy, cheeky smile.

"I believe I found the exact opposite." He smoothed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. "Korra, we can't-"

"Don't," she said, and he was suddenly reminded of his imagined interruption when he was trying to cleanse the captive earlier that night. The afterglow faded entirely as it all flooded back: his mission. Her opposition.

"We can't do this," he persisted. "There can be no happy ending for us."

"I know." Her hand rose to find his, and her fingers intertwined with his. "I just want to pretend that there can be. Just for a little longer."

So did he, more than anything. Relenting, he lay down beside her, his thumb skating across her knuckles.

"I never did get your answer," he said. "Will you ally with me against Tarrlok?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," she said.


	8. Suspicions

**VIII  
Suspicions**

A persistent sunbeam prodded Korra's eyes open. She groaned and rubbed her face, sitting up. The bed was empty beside her, and the window shutters were wide open. A folded piece of paper was in her hand. She stared at it, her cheeks warming as the events of the previous night flooded her mind. Slowly, shyly, she was beginning to admit to herself that she was falling for him. Hard.

She unfolded the note and pressed it flat against the bed. Amon's hand was difficult to decipher, not at all what she expected considering his elegant oratory skills, and she squinted at it for a moment.

_"Decoy base. Ten o'clock tonight. Alone."_

Her first love letter, she thought wryly.  _How romantic._

Plodding over to the window, she took in the beautiful day. Sunny, warm, blue skies. It matched her mood. Perhaps she would take her breakfast outside, and-

"Bolin," she said aloud. She had promised to meet him for breakfast, and the sun was already high in the sky. Hurriedly pulling on her clothes, she stashed Amon's note in her boot. As she ran out the door and up the pathway to the cliff, she worked at her hair, trying to undo the damage that the prior evening had done.

Bolin was sitting on a multicoloured blanket overlooking the bay, Pabu draped around his neck. A basket of buns sat in the middle of the blanket, a bottle of juice and two glasses beside it. It was so late in the morning that she expected him to have started without her, but his plate was clean. His fingers were fidgety, his face pinched, and a note of panic rang through her.  _He looks nervous._

"Good morning, Korra," said Bolin as she sat down across from him. "You sure slept late."

"Sorry to keep you waiting." She hammed up a yawn. "Told you I was exhausted last night. Wow, this looks delicious."

"Yeah. Pema was teaching the kids how to make sweet buns. They're a bit misshapen, but I've been assured that they taste delicious. Well, the girls' ones, at least. Meelo's might be a bit more suspect." He fidgeted again.

"What's on your mind, Bolin?" Korra selected the largest of the sweet buns and set it on her plate, then sniffed the juice. Some sort of melon. She poured a glass.

"I don't know how to put this delicately, so I'll just say it," he said. "You've been acting really weird since you were trapped in that cave last month. I want to make sure you're okay."

"What do you mean, weird? I'm fine." She took a big bite of the sweet bun. Salty! She spat it out and examined it. "I think I got one of Meelo's."

"Korra," said Bolin, "you were in there for nearly four days, and you haven't talked with anyone about it. We're all a bit worried about what you had to endure, and you've been so jumpy lately, and yelling at the radio..."

"Not much to talk about. I did some digging, gathered seaweed and water, did some meditation..." She trailed off, hoping he wouldn't call her on that last one.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You meditated? Really?"

"I had a lot of time to think." She shrugged, wrestling against the blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks. "Look, I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it." She picked out a fresh bun and tentatively ripped off a chunk to chew. This bun was much better, and she let it melt on her tongue. Bolin was still watching her, his face concerned again.

"Out with it," she said around her mouthful. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "While you were missing, when we finally figured out you had gone to Observation Mountain, the surface was a mess due to the landslide, so we couldn't find you at first. Chief - er, Ms. Beifong did her foot-sensing trick to track you down." He looked up at her. "We know you weren't alone in that cave."

Korra froze, and the blush finally won out. The bread in her mouth was difficult to swallow. She set the bread down on her plate and looked down at it, poking it, so that she wouldn't have to meet his concerned gaze.

"It was Amon, wasn't it?" said Bolin.

She didn't reply.

"If he hurt you-"

"No, no," she interrupted, trying to calm her panicking mind long enough to figure out how much she should tell him. "I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want anyone to worry. Yes, he was there, but he saved my life, and I saved his in return. So we had a temporary truce. And now he's going to try to take down Tarrlok, and I might be helping him a bit..." She trailed off as Bolin's mouth dropped.

"You're working with him? And you didn't tell us?"

"Bolin-"

"I thought we were Team Avatar. We work together, and that means everyone is on the same page!"

She winced, seeing the hurt on his face. "That's all still true. It's just convenient if we let the Equalists handle the dirty work we don't want to touch. I didn't want to drag you guys into this - because I saved his life, he has granted me temporary protection, but he won't extend that to the rest of you."

There was a long pause, then Bolin shook his head. "Be careful, Korra. We've seen how easily he manipulates people, and what he can do to benders. Don't let him get under your skin."

Under her skin. Her eyes closed as she remembered the sensation of him behind her, inside her, his hand massaging furiously between her legs...

Her eyes snapped open before the memory could carry her away. "I appreciate the concern, but I promise you that the situation is under control."

Bolin didn't look convinced. She didn't blame him. If that unbidden little flashback was an indication of the amount of control she actually had over the situation, then she wasn't convinced, either.

.*.*.*.

Amon tugged his hood forward to straighten it, adjusting it into place as he strode to the warehouse door. Thanks to his little mental breakdown the night before, he had twenty-two individuals to cleanse; it was going to take a while. He really should have arrived earlier so that he didn't have to waste his entire day, but he had slept longer than he had intended with the Avatar in his arms. It had been a great risk staying so late in the morning, and he had paid for it by having to go to great efforts to stealth out of the temple to his waiting pilot without being detected by any of the acolytes. No doubt the pilot was going to require some sort of overnight bonus to compensate him for his time waiting.

Still, he couldn't help feeling that the whole ordeal had been worth it.

His good mood faded as he opened the door.

His third-in-command was waiting inside, a bundle of papers in her arm; she cocked her head to the storage room, setting her peppered black hair bobbing. "A moment of your time before you get started, Amon." He could tell by her pursed lips that his tardiness had been noticed. Feeling more like a chastised child than the figurehead of a revolution, he marched into the storage room, his third following close behind. She closed the door.

"You were expected here an hour ago," she said.

"My appointment last night ran later than expected." Noticing her brows drop, he added, "I do not have to explain myself."

"I think you might." She held out an envelope, her face drawn. "This arrived in our north-east drop box this morning, addressed to me."

Amon accepted the envelope and examined it. The police force logo was stamped over the broken seal. "How did they find our drop box?"

"Unknown, but we are already relocating it. The letter inside is what concerns me." Her arms folded over her chest.

He pulled it out, and as he read, the blood drained from his face.

_"Ms. Aoki,_

_"It may interest you to know that we tracked your esteemed leader to the bedroom of a prominent bender shortly after midnight last night. We imagine the details of this information are of value to you and your organization, and we wish to make an information exchange. Please reply by post with a desired location and time to the address below."_

Amon cleared his throat and folded the letter. "We must be making them nervous. They are so desperate that they are aiming to tear apart our movement from the inside."

Her yellow eyes bored through him. "Is it true?"

He stared at the envelope. Was this the movement he had seen outside Korra's window? Was Tarrlok keeping a police force spying on Air Temple Island? It made sense, he supposed, given that the details of Tarrlok's fight with the Avatar had not yet reached the public. He should have guessed at it, given that he, too, liked to keep his enemies close. He inwardly cursed his carelessness, but kept his voice calm as he said, "Do not allow them to plant seeds of suspicion in your mind, Midori."

"I don't need them to plant anything." She lifted the other papers from her arms, and he saw a newspaper, nearly a month old. The headline read,  _"Avatar Survives Cave-In, Returns to Republic City."_

"We pretend not to wonder," she said. "None of us has asked. But we all know you were down there with her."

He met her gaze. "Yes. I used her to survive. I do not wish to speak of it any further."

She plucked the letter from his hand and slid it inside the paper, then set them on the floor. Pulling a matchbook from her pocket, she set the papers alight. They stared down at them, watching them burn, and he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"No one else has seen that letter, Amon," she said. "And now no one will. But I can only do so much damage control should more like this arrive. I need you to be utterly honest with me so that I can prepare." Looking him squarely in the eye, she said, "Did you spend the night with the Avatar?"

Amon studied her. He had known Midori Aoki since he had first been introduced to the plans of revolution. She had been the one to recognize his natural charisma back when he was just another boy with an agenda handing out hand-written pamphlets on the street, and it was she who had boosted him to the forefront. Though she was officially ranked third in command, in a way she was almost a surrogate mother or aunt, someone who had helped lend an air of maturity to his goals. Many in the organization looked up to her, and if he were to lose her confidence, he did not doubt that the resulting schism would obliterate the Equalist movement. This had to be handled gracefully. So far as he could see, there was only one way to play this.

"I did," he said. "And it is all part of a greater plan."

.*.*.*.

Shortly before ten that night, Korra powered a small boat across the bay. She missed having Naga with her, but the polar bear dog had again been curled up with the girls, and she didn't have the heart to disturb them. Besides, Naga's absence might have drawn attention to Korra's. It was safer to go alone.

The streets were nearly empty save for patrolling police forces, but they were sparse enough that Korra easily avoided them, hurrying to the decoy base where she had met Amon the night prior. The lights were out and, when she stepped inside, the office had been stripped bare. Tarrlok's police force must have confiscated all the material they had left behind, she reasoned, suddenly glad that Team Avatar hadn't stuck around for long.

"Amon?" she whispered, sparking a small flame in her hand as she began to descend to the basement. "Are you here?"

"Avatar." He stood at the far end of the hallway, a lantern in his hand. Something his stance seemed off; it was too aloof, too stiff.

She hesitated, and he noticed.

"What's the matter, Avatar?" He was using the deeper registers of his voice, the threatening rumble that he had used the first time they had met face-to-face. "Don't you trust me?"

She crouched, awareness of danger pouring over her like water, making her skin crawl. "No, I don't," she said slowly.

"That is wise," said Amon.

A crackle sounded behind her. She turned to see the lieutenant, wielding electric batons.

"What-" was all she managed before the batons made contact with her gut. Her muscles seized and she dropped, writhing in pain.

Amon closed the distance with near-inhuman speed and loomed over her. "Bind her."

"Bastard," she managed around the spasms of her jaw. Several other Equalists appeared out of recesses in the walls to tie her arms and legs. The electricity finally stopped, and it took a few moments for the last tics to leave her body.

Amon crouched over her, looking down the nose of his mask. "Once again, I must apologize for my poor hospitality."

She gathered heat in her mouth and blasted a puff of fire at his face; he sifted out of the way like smoke.

"Such temper will only extend your suffering," he said. "Listen carefully: if you answer my questions, you shall be released unharmed. If, however, you try to pull a stunt like that again, then I will extract my answers more forcefully. Do you understand?"

She channelled all her hatred and fury into her glare. "You monster! I trusted you."

He sat down in front of her, folding his legs beneath him, and sat ramrod-straight. "You have experienced Councilman Tarrlok's bloodbending first hand. I need information."

"I would have told you if you had just asked," she growled. His gaze was so cold that she felt as if she were looking at a different man than the one she had seen the night before. The betrayal was crushing her stomach, making it hard to breathe.

"I am asking, and this will be the last time I ask before I use force. Tell me everything."

The lieutenant stepped into view behind Amon, batons brandished. Seeing that there was no escape, Korra's head dropped and, defeated, she began to speak. She hid no details about all Katara had told her about bloodbending; though the woman had never taught her the skill, she had described the theory behind it, albeit begrudgingly. By the time she had recounted the details of her fight with Tarrlok, Amon's eyes were wide.

"Can he bloodbend more than one person at once?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Korra. "But others have been able to before, so it wouldn't surprise me."

"Is there anything that can counteract these powers? Weaken them?"

"Other than a lunar eclipse, none that I know of. He should be weakest during the day, but he also shouldn't be able to bloodbend without a full moon in the first place."

Amon stood and walked a few paces away, his hands clasped behind him. Korra's lips curled as she glared at his back.

"Have I met your conditions?" she demanded. "Are you going to honour your word and release me?"

He did not turn around. "I have more to say to you, Avatar, but it is for your ears only. Lieutenant, please escort the others to our transport."

There was a long silence. Korra twisted to look behind her. The lieutenant looked confused.

"Lieutenant," said Amon again.

"Yes, Amon." The man stopped to double-check the cinching on Korra's bonds, then cocked his head at the other Equalists. As they began to file out, she saw how many there really were: about a dozen, by her count. It was a good thing she hadn't tried to fight her way out.

"Do I frighten you so much that you need to bring a small army whenever you want to speak with me?" she said.

The last of the Equalists ascended the stairs, and the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Only then did Amon's head drop, though he still did not turn around.

"I did not wish to meet like this," he said.

"How dare you," she exploded, writhing against her bonds. "I trusted you!"

"There are growing suspicions that needed to be quelled, and you needed to seem genuinely betrayed and afraid."

"That's because I am!"

He spun and marched to her, not meeting her eye, then crouched behind her and began to untie her feet. "We don't have much time, so listen to me closely-"

"I'm through listening to you. You're just going to fill my ears with more lies and then-"

"Listen closely," he intoned, his voice dropping in register again, dangerous. A shudder ran through her body and she stopped talking. The bonds at her feet dropped away, and he began to work at her hands. "Tarrlok's forces are spying on Air Temple Island. We were compromised."

"Compromised?"

"My third-in-command received a letter announcing that I was in the bedroom of a powerful bender, and that there were more details available."

She glanced back at him. "That's impossible. We'd notice if there were spies. It's not a very big island, and the acolytes and the White Lotus are everywhere."

"And yet, I was able to land, visit you and leave, all undetected by your forces. You are not so guarded as you think. Tarrlok is keeping a close eye on you, undetected." He tugged at the bonds and they slid free of her wrists. "It was a mistake for me to visit you."

She sat up, rubbing her forearms to scrub the impressions of the bonds from her skin. "Yeah, well, this whole thing has been a mistake. Every single step of it."

"Korra-"

"No, save your breath. You can try to talk your way around this all you want; I know where I stand with you now."

He stood and held out a hand to help her up, but she smacked it away and stood up on her own. Something akin to hurt flickered across his eyes, but then his gaze steeled.

"I have no further questions," he said.

"Good. Can I leave now?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Or do you have to kiss me and then knock me unconscious first?"

"What would you do if I tried to kiss you right now?"

"Probably punch you in the face."

"Then I hope you'll excuse me if I decide not to risk it."

She pushed past him and stormed toward the stairs; she had just reached the bottom step when he spoke:

"Korra."

She whirled. "What?"

"Be careful," he said quietly.

Her anger deflated against her will at the gentle tone to his voice. Looking away, she nodded. "Goodbye, Amon."

Then she turned and began to climb the stairs.

.*.*.*.

Amon stepped into the skycraft, and the hatch closed behind him. The lieutenant stood at attention waiting for him.

"Did you get everything you needed to know?"

Amon moved to the window as the craft began to ascend. Korra was below, running through the streets toward the bay. He watched until she shrank from view.

"Amon?" asked the lieutenant.

"Yes." His leader closed his eyes. "Yes, I did."

_But at what cost?_ his conscience whispered.


	9. Challenge

**IX  
Challenge**

The more members of the Red Monsoon that Amon captured, the more he began to realize that they were not the bloodbenders that Korra had expected. Had they been, they would surely have pulled out the technique in desperation as they fought to keep their bending.

And so, the devices that the Equalists had built went untested.

Not that he suspected they would be very useful. So far, the most plausible weapons seemed to be smoke bombs, but he couldn't even test if bloodbenders needed to see their victims in order to bend them. One of the labs had developed sun reflection bombs – small balls that cracked open and used a crystal to amplify the sun's rays in an aura around them – on the vague hunch that strengthening the sun might weaken a bender who drew power from the moon. They were fragile weapons. Amon sat at a desk in one of his many offices, idly flipping the sun crystal open and closed.

"It seems a bit of a gimmick rather than a useful weapon, doesn't it?" asked the lieutenant, who was sitting beside him, drinking a bottle of ale.

"Definitely the prettiest weapons we own, though," said his third-in-command.

It had been a long, fruitless day of trying to get a single second of bloodbending out of Red Monsoon captives, and both the lieutenant and his third were cutting loose a little. A bottle sat in front of Amon as well, uncapped but nearly full. He had never been one to drink much.

"Anything new in concept, Midori?" he asked.

"Marus was drafting up plans for a platinum-lined suit," said his third wryly. "He seemed offended when I pointed out that its weight would bog you down. Other than that, nothing. Without testing our ideas on what we're dealing with, we're stumped."

"Then I suppose we have to work with what we have." Amon retrieved a rolled-up map from a side drawer and smoothed it atop the desk, weighting its curling edges with the beer bottle and the sun crystal. His finger stabbed a large, blank square in the dock district. "If we face Tarrlok here and station our mechs in a circle around it, we have ample back-up should the ground forces fail."

"We will fail," said the lieutenant, pausing to take a long swig of ale.

"Then we need to plan for that and determine how we can turn it into a victory in the long run." Amon drummed his fingers on the table. "Midori, can you arrange a radio patch tomorrow morning?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes, but isn't that premature?"

"We don't have a choice." Nearly a thousand Equalist supporters had been arrested in the past two days – one thousand! – and more were ongoing. Tarrlok's madness had spun out of control, and it was time to end it, no matter what the cost. "You two had best retire for the night. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

The lieutenant held up his ale in a toast, then drained the rest of it. "Goodnight, Amon."

"You might as well bring this with you." Amon handed him his bottle.

"I'll put it to good use." With a grin, the lieutenant bobbed his head in farewell, then departed.

His third spoke only when the door had closed behind him: "I met with the police force."

Amon's head snapped to her. "The police force?"

"About the letter. I figured it was valuable to see exactly how much information they had." At first, he had been worried that she had done so out of mistrust, but her face was even. She wasn't hiding anything, he judged.

"What information did you have to trade for this?"

"The location of one of Sato's warehouses." She smirked. "The one filled with all our failed prototypes. That will throw them in the wrong direction for a bit."

"Good. And what did they tell you in return?"

"That you were spotted entering the Avatar's bedroom window, and engaging in secret conversation with her. Whoever collected the information also had a transcript overheard after the window shutters were drawn. It is rather thorough." Clearing her throat, she handed him a piece of paper. Amon's eyes drifted down it.

_..."If word of our encounter has reached anyone's ears, even your closest friend-"..._

_..."Korra, I am accustomed to emotionally distancing myself from my past, using it to fuel my resolve rather than weigh me down. But there is one memory I cannot shake-"..._

_..."Do you need me too, Amon?"..._

_...[the Avatar cries out in pleasure]..._

Rereading the words made his face flush and his frown deepen all at once. He had not spoken with the Avatar at all in the week since their last encounter. Not only had it proven too dangerous for him to visit her, but her words had made it clear that she had lost all trust in him. Though he had tried to write it off as a benefit – no more emotional distraction – rereading these words made him realize how badly he missed her.

"Their spies are thorough," he said, his voice flat. "They didn't miss a single detail."

"If I may be so frank, this transcript is too honest to be only manipulation. Amon, if you have feelings for this girl, it could seriously compromise our goals."

"Our goals are first. Always."

"I believe you," she said. "But there are mutterings, so please be careful. The lieutenant himself spoke to me after your last meeting with the Avatar. He found it suspicious that you insisted on talking to her alone."

He sat back in his chair. "I assure you: our goals are first. If the lieutenant has similar worries in the future, please request that he talk to me directly." Pulling out a pen and paper, he added, "Now if you will excuse me, Midori, I must work on my speech for the morning."

She bobbed goodnight and departed.

Amon stared at the paper, but after a few minutes, he pulled out the paper from the police force instead. His fingers traced over it, one line at a time, as he allowed the memories to fill his mind, and his throat began to tighten.

.*.*.*.

Morning, as always, came too early. Korra sat up, eyes half open, and then swung her legs to the side of the bed. Plodding outside her door, she nearly walked into Asami.

"Whoa! Morning, Korra." Asami smiled, her face somehow already made up and perky even though it was barely after sunrise. "You're up early."

"Wanted to catch the news," mumbled Korra, rubbing her eyes. Since the crackdown and arrests, she had been debating the next move she should make. Clearly, Tarrlok was overdue for a beat-down, but she hadn't yet figured out how to approach it without jeopardizing her safety and the safety of her friends. She had hoped that in spite of how poorly their last meeting had gone, Amon would appear out of the blue and offer his Equalists in support, but as each day passed, reality sank in more and more: that alliance was over. So, she clung to every word about the arrests, hoping a solution would present itself.

"Are you okay, Korra? You're frowning," said Asami as they walked toward the kitchen.

Korra's frown deepened. While Bolin swore he hadn't told the others anything about her time in the cave with Amon, they had been doting over her lately in a way that indicated that he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut. Thank goodness she hadn't told him the full extent of it.

"I'm fine. Stop asking." Every time they asked, she was reminded that she had things to feel badly about.

The radio was already on as they slid into place at the table. Tenzin was reading the newspaper, while the kids were arguing over who got to feed Naga her morning breakfast. Bolin and Mako weren't up yet, no doubt sleeping in. Team Avatar had been up late the night before listening to the police scanner, tracking the arrests as they happened.

"Any more this morning?" asked Asami.

"Two-dozen ongoing right now," said Pema, her normally sunny face sagging.

The table fell silent. Korra's hands curled into fists. She had wanted to take Tarrlok's bloodbending to the media to shut him down, but Tenzin had gently pointed out that there was no proof. Her other idea had been to weed out Tarrlok's spies on Air Temple Island, but that was proving to be fruitless.

She did not like being helpless.

_"People of Republic City,"_  said the radio.

Her eyes snapped to it, her muscles tensing. Amon. Around her, the others set down their food and turned, all ears alert.

_"To my followers, I thank you for all your support thus far. I apologize for interrupting your normal newscast, but it is time we had another talk. No doubt you have heard of the unjust arrests performed by Councilman Tarrlok. It is time that his reign of terror is ended. Tarrlok, for misusing your bending in heinous and oppressive ways, prepare to be equalized. I will face you at the main dock in the Central City Shipyard at noon tomorrow. Bring whatever forces you deem necessary, but be warned that I will respond in kind. This ends now"_

There was a sharp sound of static, and then the radio was quiet for a moment before the regular newscast continued.

"He's going to die," said Korra, her heart sinking.

"That kind of takes care of one of the problems for us, doesn't it?" asked Asami.

"Excuse me." Korra stood, her appetite suddenly gone, and stormed from the kitchen.

.*.*.*.

Amon had intended to return to his desk and continue planning his strategy once the broadcast was complete, but instead he found himself staring out the window, his eyes lingering on Air Temple Island. Lost in thought, he didn't notice his third enter.

"Amon." Her hand touched his shoulder. He turned.

"I will need transport tonight," he said. "I need to tell the Avatar to stay out of this fight."

She gave a small sigh.

His eyes narrowed. "It would be strategically disadvantageous if she were to-"

"No, I don't need a reason. I understand the need to say goodbye." She patted his shoulder, her face sympathetic. "But if you're going to do that, at least let me be the one to fly you in. It will be a far easier secret to keep that way."

"Yes, well..." Clearing his throat, he sat at his desk. "Thank you. Would you mind fetching the lieutenant? We need to finalize a task force roster."

"Of course, Amon." With a bow, she departed.

Knowing that he would see Korra that night cleared his mind, and he bent over the map, continuing his work.


	10. Amon

**X  
Amon**

Amon's third-in-command stepped out of the boat onto the small beach, tilting her head to look up the cliff that erupted before them. "You're really going to climb that?"

Amon stepped out of the boat as well. "I can't give you a time estimate for my return, Midori."

"I'm prepared to sleep in the boat if I have to." Her smile was kind. "Take the time you need, but make sure you get some rest before tomorrow."

"Thank you." With a respectful nod, he turned and began to ascend the cliff. It was easier this time, now that he was familiar with the path. Though this was only his second visit to Air Temple Island, every detail from the first night was burned into his memory.

As he neared the top, the sound of a sniffle from above him made him freeze. He listened. A small sob. Someone was at the edge of the cliff, weeping.

Strafing along the rock, he changed his course to give him a wide berth. He noiselessly pulled himself above the crest of the cliff and rolled onto the grassy plateau, landing in a crouch.

The figure he had overheard was hunched near the edge of the cliff. Korra. He did a quick scan of the area for anyone who might overhear them, then paced toward her.

"Korra."

She whirled. Her brows dropped when she saw him, and she swabbed the tears from her face. "These aren't for your benefit, if you're wondering."

"I wasn't," he lied, certain she was lying as well. He closed the distance to stand beside her, staring across the bay. It was still early in the night, and dozens of boats were sailing into the port, their lights reflecting on the water.

She craned her neck to glare up at him. "I'm here because I wanted to be alone."

So she was still angry with him for the staged interrogation session; he had suspected as much. "I know it is not your way, choosing ambition over intimacy, and so it seems foreign to you, backwards," he said. "I struggle to balance the two, particularly when they are in direct conflict as they are with you and me."

There was no humour in her laugh. "Is that supposed to be an apology for the way you treated me last time we met? You're going to have to do better than that."

"I am not here to apologize. I am here to warn you."

She turned to look at him. "Warn me?"

He met her gaze. "Stay away tomorrow. This battle is between the Equalists and the police force; you and your group of friends have no place there. Should you appear, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I can't promise that. You're going to get yourself killed if you don't have all the help you can get." Her head tilted. "Unless you've figured out a way to counteract bloodbending?"

Amon turned to look across the bay again. He could see the docks from here, where he would face his fate at noon. It was the best location they could find, strategically. A wooden surface, unbendable by the earthbending police force. Enough water around that Tarrlok might default to waterbending and they wouldn't have to worry about his bloodbending at all. Plenty of ships, the perfect hiding places for Sato's machines of war. With any luck, his forces would escape with few casualties.

Still, he could not shake the feeling that tomorrow was the day that he would become a martyr, and so the urge for closure was overwhelming.

"You asked me once for my true name, Avatar," he said. "It is Amon."

She squinted at him. "Your real name is Amon?"

"You sound disappointed."

"I suppose I figured that your true name would give me a hint about who you really are."

He sat beside her, folding his legs beneath him. "It might comfort you to understand that you know more of my true self than any other living soul." A cool breeze rippled past him, wafting her scent toward him, and his eyes slid closed for a moment to savour it. "My life has been a mission. It is only when I am with you that the mission recedes to the background and I remember myself."

He heard her long, low sigh. "Stop trying, Amon. I know how this plays out. You're going to weave words that make me fall head over heels for you again, only to betray me the instant you need to use me for your cause." She plucked violently at the grass before her, agitation written on her face.

Reaching out a hand to still hers, he locked eyes with her. "I have betrayed your trust."

"Yes, you have. What little of it you had in the first place."

"I wish to regain it. We hold many secrets about one another already, but there is one that I can give you that outweighs them all." His eyes searched hers, and his fingers curled around her hand. "I have never told anyone about my past – my real past. You wish to know it."

She tensed at the contact, but did not pull away. "Yes, I do. The real Amon, not the magical creature described in the propaganda."

"It is not a pleasant story."

"I expected as much."

His hand tightened around hers, drawing strength from her warmth, as he began to speak...

.*.*.*.

The first sign that something was wrong were the shouting voices outside the farmhouse. Amon crept through the kitchen toward the door and opened it a crack, peering through. His father's back was to the door, hugging the frame so closely that Amon could not see around him.

"Please, have mercy," said his father. "The rice was wiped out by the drought, and most of the money from the vegetables went to treating my infant daughter, who is very ill. My family is starving just to try to keep her alive."

"You know that your payment is now six months overdue," said a booming voice from in front of his father. "I know you got our last warning because I can see the scars on your hand."

His father's fist clenched, its surface still marred by red scars. Amon remembered mother rubbing salve on it, weeping.

"Amon," whispered his mother from behind him. "Come away from the door."

He turned. She was desperately rocking his sister, Zilla, trying to sooth her crying. Amon did not understand what was wrong with Zilla, but she cried nonstop, especially after his parents gave her a silver-coloured medicine from the doctor's vial each day. His young mind grasped that the medicine was all that was keeping her alive.

A strangled yell sounded outside the door, then a thump.

"Father!" Amon lunged for the doorknob.

"Amon, no!" His mother lay the babe in her crib and ran toward him, but the door was already swinging open.

His father lay on the ground, a steady stream of blood trickling from his nose. A plump man in a suit stood above him, his boot at his father's throat. He gave off an aura of evil, one that made the hair on Amon's neck stand on end. Behind him stood two other men in suits, hands braced and glowing with fire, ready to shoot.

"Get back in the house, Amon!" His mother gripped him by the shoulders, shoving him behind her. "Zoran!" She crouched beside his fallen father.

"Stay back, Otzana," grunted his father.

Amon peeked out from the door frame. Behind them, Zilla began to squall.

The evil man grinned. "Well, well. What a lovely lady of the house you have here, Zoran."

"Don't you touch her," said Amon's father, and his voice ended in a yell as the evil man pressed harder with his booted foot.

Amon's heart began to pound.

"Please." His mother stepped forward. "Release him. We can't pay you money, but I'll give you anything you want." Her voice trembled. "Anything."

"Otzana, don't!" begged his father from the ground.

A burning heat began to smoulder in Amon's chest, unlike any he had ever known. It was pure energy, pulsing inside him, aching to burst free.

"Tempting. Here, hold him." The evil man lifted his boot from his father's throat, and the two behind him rushed in to continue holding him captive. Reaching out a stubby, well-manicured hand, the evil man wrapped his fingers around Amon's mother's wrist. She stepped forward, her eyes downcast.

"Let go of her," howled his father, sitting up and trying to tug free of his captors.

The heat in Amon's chest swelled, choking him, rising, and suddenly he understood what it was.

The evil man's hand trailed up his mother's arm, and he pulled her forward, covering her mouth with his.

"Leave her alone!" screamed Amon, and instinct overtook him.

His hand thrust forward.

Fire erupted from his arm.

The evil man recoiled with a shriek, clutching at the side of his face. The stench of burnt flesh met Amon's nostrils. He gagged. His mother was staring at him, too shocked to move away even though she had been freed.

Howling, the evil man lurched forward. His face was blackened, blistering red flesh in the cracks. "So you think you're a firebender, you little brat? Let me show you what a real firebender can do!"

His mother jumped between them. "Please, don't hurt him. We had no idea he could do that. We didn't know. We would have kept him away from you-"

The man shoved his mother aside. His father yelled again, still captive.

Amon stared up at the evil man and jutted his jaw, standing his ground as the other approached. "Leave our family alone."

"You need to learn your place in the world, kid." Behind them, in the house, Zilla was still wailing. "Will someone shut up that damned baby?"

"Gladly." One of his father's captors stepped forward, flame sparking to life at his fingertips.

"Don't you touch her!" screamed his mother.

Time slowed.

His mother ran at the man to intercept him.

His father jerked free of his captor.

Amon howled. Flame exploded from his fist, larger this time, and slammed into the henchman. Engulfed him. The man shrieked, staggered, writhed, collapsed. Then his corpse lay smouldering, his shrill death scream still echoing in Amon's ears.

"Oh spirits, no," he heard his father say beside him.

"Leave none alive!" roared the evil man.

Pain blunted the back of Amon's head, and everything went dark.

.*.*.*.

He came to surrounded by smoke. Flames roared in his ears. A heavy arm was on top of him; he turned to see his father's face, eyes glazed, jaw twisted in a silent scream. With a shriek, Amon scrabbled back. His father's torso was burnt so badly that it was almost unrecognizable as human. He couldn't look away, his shocked young mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Still scrabbling backwards, his back slammed into a wall. He moved along it, desperate to get away from the corpse.

A scream. His mother. Coughing hard against the choking black smoke, Amon hurried in her direction, calling for her.

The smoke was thinner here, the window above her head providing some ventilation. She was trapped against a wall; burning wreckage was piled all around her. Zilla was in her arms, but the infant's eyes were as glazed as his father's.

"Amon," she screamed. "Go! Run away!" Her eyes snapped to the ceiling. Flames licked at the crossbeams, eating the wood. Any minute down, the one above her was going to drop.

"Mother!" Amon tugged at the wreckage, but it would not budge. "Mother, no!" His hands scrabbled at the wood, ignoring the flames. Tears streamed down his face, evaporating in the heat. He heard sobs – hers, or his, or both. Fire roared up his hands, eating away at his fingers, and though the pain was unbearable, he kept going, kept trying to free her, crying her name over and over.

"Go, Amon!" she pleaded. "Go!"

Above them, the roof began to groan.

Her eyes locked with his.

"Amon," she said. "I love you."

Then the crossbeam fell, and she was gone.

The ceiling, unsupported, began to cave in. Amon screamed and bolted, tripping over debris and falling onto his charred hands. He crawled forward, desperately clawing his way forward to escape the falling debris. The smoke was black here, too thick too see anything, and he slammed the remains of his hands against the wall, looking for the door.

Suddenly, it yawned open before him. He scrambled forward until the earth was cool, then collapsed. His stomach heaved, again and again, coughs and sobs and vomit choking him.

Booted feet appeared in his vision. Weakly, Amon lifted his head to see the evil man standing above him, a sneer on his half-charred face. He reached down and picked up Amon by the collar.

"You took my face, brat," he said, "so now I'm taking yours."

Fire engulfed Amon's face, and then there was nothingness.

.*.*.*.

Amon heard a soft voice, spoken but not, as if ringing in his ears.

_"Awaken, little one."_

He struggled to open his eyes, then realized with horror that his lids were fused shut. Pain ricocheted through his body. He could not stop his body from writhing, though that made the pain even worse.

A soft touch, barely a breath of air, trailed down his body. The pain began to abate.

"You are not allowed to leave yet. There is still much to be done." The voice was more real now, more solid. Amon tried to open his mouth to reply, but it, too, was fused shut. He arched, panicking.

"Shh." The wispy hand smoothed his face. He felt now as if he were bobbing in a pool of water, though he could feel no water against his skin.

"You have a great gift, little one." The wisp trailed his scalp, and the burning ache there abated. "You have bravery. Reflexes. Justice. Not many would survive what you just went through, and still you cling to life. You are a fighter, through and through. And with my help, you will grow to be a great leader, an unmatched warrior, and a beacon of justice."

The wisp slid across his back, and there, too, the burning cooled.

"Now you have seen the corruption that bending brings. Both theirs, and your own." Now the wisps began to prod points on his back, each one triggering a cold flood of relaxation through his body. "You have suffered plenty, young one, and I know you will never abuse your bending again. But there are others – many others – who know no such restraint. You are fated to bring balance."

The words were confusing, and Amon would have panicked if panic had been an option, but all he could feel was the cool calmness of the energies flowing through his body.

"You will need tools to fulfil your purpose," said the voice. "First, I give you back your ears."

The sides of his head tingled, and then he felt his ears grow, cartilage crackling and moulding into place. Sound rushed into his mind like wind.

"Ears to listen to the needs of the people, for you cannot act in their interest if you do not listen," said the voice, clearer than before, and now he heard an ethereal tinge to it, echoes and moans. "Second, I give you your mouth."

The wisp trailed across his face, and his lips separated and parted. Air rushed in across his tongue, cool and sweet.

"A mouth to house the silver tongue that you will discover as you grow, to recount your message, to bring others to your side. Third, your nose."

More air flowed into his body, and now he could smell the sweet, mossy air, fleshing out the taste that had already been forming on his tongue.

"Your nose is more important than you may think, for it is the key to controlling your breaths. Your breath will prove to be an invaluable tool as you master your energies, and it is the core of all the physical skills that you will master. Next, I give you your hands."

A rush of sensation flooded his hands as his fingers regrew, as smooth and flawless as they had been before the attack.

"While your breath is key to mastering your own energies, your hands are what will allow you to master the energy of others. This is how you will control them, little one. This is how you will bring balance. Next is your eyes."

The wisp trailed across his eyes, and he felt the swelling recede, his eyelids forming, hair sprouting on his lids and brows. He opened them, squinting against the light that rushed in. The world around him was hazy and grey, and a shadowy black figure loomed above him, its face indistinguishable.

"You will need these to see the injustices around you. Use them well. And lastly, little one, I give you your spirit."

A black strand of energy slid against his chest, and Amon seized as it pulsed through him. His heart lurched and the thready pulse grew into a strong, regular rhythm. The wounds in his lungs healed and his breaths became easy.

"My energies are a part of you now," said the spirit. "Your will is your own, but your mission is mine. You are now ready for your greater purpose."

Amon's mind was drowsy, and he blinked his eyes, trying to clear it. "You rescued me for a mission?"

"Indeed. You have a great fate awaiting you, a great responsibility."

Still too young to question authority in any form, he said, "What do you ask of me, spirit?"

The shadowy being bent closer. "Bending is out of balance, and it is vexing the spirits greatly. Humans have taken this gift to violent extremes – even you, little one, have used it to kill in rage. The inequality between those who can bend and those who cannot is growing ever deeper. You are to do whatever it takes to restore the balance."

"Like an Avatar?" asked Amon.

"No. The Avatar's life force is fading," said the spirit. "The imbalance is spiralling out of control, and he is too frail, too weak, to stop it. He will pass from this world very soon, and it will be many years until the next Avatar is powerful enough to correct the imbalance. And even the Avatar may not be brave enough to do what needs to be done. Even the Avatar can fall sway to the temptations of bending, can create inequality.

"But you, little one, you will keep bending in check. You are my solution." The wisp caressed his face. "And now, a gift."

A porcelain mask, plain white, appeared in the air before Amon. He reached out for it and gripped it. A shiver ran through him at the contact.

"This mask is our link," said the spirit. "It binds our energies. Keep it with you. Keep it safe. It is a part of you now, like me; it will grow and change as you do, as you take steps along the path to balance."

"I don't understand," said Amon, clutching the mask to his chest.

"Indeed. Your first step is to seek out those who do." The wisp pressed against his forehead.  _And so, little one, I give you your first step on your path to greatness._

Light flooded Amon's mind, and he saw a group of warriors battling benders, their jabbing fingers rendering the benders useless. A single flag was behind them, its inverted U-shape etching itself in his mind, before the light overcame him entirely.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital in Republic City. Though his arms bore scars, his hands were fully healed and, feeling his face, the places the spirit had healed were intact. Had it been real? Had his family been saved, too? He looked around, frantically searching for his mother, and tears began to spill down his singed face when he realized that she was not there.

It was only later that he realized that a white mask sat on his bedside table. A single red dot was in the centre of its forehead, exactly where the spirit had last touched him.

.*.*.*.

Amon's lids parted as he finished recounting the memory, and he blinked a few times to hold back the dampness gathering in his eyes. The bay of Republic City was foggy, its lights a hazy glow, and they slowly warmed the aching chill that had taken hold of his body. He turned to Korra.

"Amon..." Tears trailed down the Avatar's cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Amon. I knew you had suffered greatly, but I had no idea..." Her hands clasped over his, squeezing it tightly.

His eyes searched hers. It was difficult to hold his own tears back when she was crying so freely, but he had not cried since he was a child, and he was not about to start now.

"Are you human?" she whispered. "Or a spirit?"

"Like you, Avatar, I am a human who serves a higher purpose, and I carry supernatural gifts to aid me. Our goals are the same, but it is the methods of obtaining those goals that have set us at odds."

"Yin and yang." She looked down at their joined hands. "Water and fire."

"I am no bender," he said firmly.

A breeze trailed past them, chilly, and he tentatively leaned closer to her. Her cheek rested on his shoulder pad, and he closed his eyes.

"Why tell me all this?" she said.

"Partly, as I said, to regain your trust. But I must confess to feeling philosophical as of late." He rolled his head to rest on top of hers. "I've realized that I have no legacy but my image, and every aspect of that has been carefully manufactured to meet my goals. Who I am has been moulded and shaped into the Amon that the Equalists revere and benders fear. When I am gone, the true Amon evaporates, overwritten by my own lies. That offends my vanity." He let out a long, slow breath. "The Avatar spirit is an eternal collection of memories and truths: these memories live so long as the cycle continues. Through your memories, Korra, my true legacy will live on long after I am gone, a secret that will continue to whisper into the ages."

She suddenly jerked away from him, staring. "What do you mean, 'after I am gone?'"

He met her gaze, unflinching.

"You're planning to die tomorrow," she realized, her eyes widening.

He did not drop her gaze.

"Amon, answer me."

"I would like to avoid it, if I can," he said.

"Let me help you."

"No; it is not your fight." He smoothed the hair from her forehead.

She jerked away. "You think I'll let you do this?"

He held her gaze, keeping his voice calm. "What do you think will happen to the balance of the world if the only two living souls who can energybend are killed in battle? What if a monster like Tarrlok surfaces again – how will he be kept in check?"

In the distance, a ship's whistle blew. His eyes darted to the dock across the bay, and a wave of panic welled in his chest. He swallowed it back. A hero faced his destiny bravely.

Korra's eyes had been drawn to it as well. As if reading his thoughts, she said, "Do you ever tire of it, Amon? Of constantly living your life for greater purpose?"

"I have never allowed myself to consider it; there has been no time to second-guess. Every moment in my life has been geared toward fixing what is wrong with the world." He turned to her and corrected himself: "Almost every moment. There have been some distractions, as of late."

She gave a small, shy smile. This time when he reached out to smooth her hair, she didn't pull away.

Then, though the action made his heart twinge, he broke the contact and stood. He did not relish the thought of returning to his cold, lonely bed for a night of poor sleep and freshly-remembered memories.

Korra's smile faded. "You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"Wait." She stood as well. "You said you wanted your memory to live on through the Avatar, but there is a part of you I still don't know." Her hand slid along the jaw of his mask and she watched, as if waiting for permission.

His heart began to pound, but he did not stop her.

She eased his hood back, and then her fingers skated along the leather strap, finding the buckle.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked.

Was he? He felt himself nod, but his hands closed into fists.

The pressure on the straps released. She pulled the mask away, setting it gently on the grass beside them.

He looked down at her, his heart thudding in his throat, more naked and vulnerable than he had ever been.

Her eyes widened as they searched his face. Though he hadn't looked at his own face in years, he knew what she was seeing. A patchwork: healed skin where the spirit had touched him, interspersed with shiny, mottled scar tissue. He watched her, waiting for signs of revulsion, but even though she looked upset, her fingers gently reached for his face. They slid up his nose, across his brow, down his jawline and then up to his lips.

"Your bone structure is beautiful."

Beautiful? He swallowed against the lump in his throat.

"You have a proud nose," she said, tracing it. "High cheekbones. Sharp jaw."

"You are the first to see this face since I was a child." And, he realized, possibly the last.

"Then I am honoured." Her hand cupped his jaw. "Stay with me tonight, Amon. No more masks or darkness between us, no more conflicting ambitions. Just man and woman, vulnerable, honest. That is the memory of you that I want, the one that deserves to be remembered until the end of time."

Her hand was soft and gentle, and he discovered that he wanted nothing more than to sink into her arms and forget about his fate. He swallowed again and, not trusting his voice, he nodded.

She turned and stomped the earth, raising her hands above her head. A perfect wall rose around them, tall enough that he couldn't see over it. "This wall will protect us from the wind and from prying eyes, from everything that the past and the future has to bring."

There was a beautiful symmetry to passing their first and last nights as lovers in the embrace of earthen walls, thought Amon. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he bent to kiss her. Her hands gripped his jaw and smoothed back into his hair. He groaned loudly into her mouth, not bothering to stifle his pleasure, and his palms slid down her body and cupped beneath her rear to lift her. As he leaned her against the stone wall, her legs folded around his waist. He broke the kiss to drag his lips across her jaw to her ear, where he suckled at her earlobe. Her moans were hot against the flesh of his neck. She began to explore his skin as well, her tongue easing up his neck to his jaw, down to his chin, which she gently bit before trailing down his throat to the divot between his collarbones. His mouth lost its focus and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the wall behind her as she licked out along his collarbone and then back again, up the other side of his neck this time.

"Your tongue feels so good..." It was the first time he had ever expressed appreciation during intimacy, and the honesty felt comfortable – especially when he heard her breath catch in response. Her mouth rose to his ear, puffs of air hot and moist against it.

Her voice rasped: "That's what I want, Amon. I want to savour every minute of every sensation I'm giving you." She lapped at his ear, and a shiver ran down his back and settled in his tailbone.

"How about that?" she asked. "Does that feel good?"

"Spirits, yes." His hands kneaded into her rear as she licked again, electricity shooting up and down his spine. "It's taking all my restraint not to thrust into you right now," he whispered, strained.

She pulled back to smile at him, evidently pleased by his admission.

"Here." She dropped her legs and nudged him back so that she could stand. Kissing him again, she began to unbutton his tunic. It melted from his body like water, puddling around his feet. Together they pulled off his bracers and undershirt, and then her mouth began to explore his chest and abdomen.

"Wait." The urge to feel her bare body against his was overwhelming. He caught her waist and lifted her upright, then lifted her shirt over her head. Once her upper body was bare, he gathered her close. Her head nestled beneath his chin. His hands ran up and down her back, rediscovering the soft skin and shapely muscles there. Pulling back, he bent over to kiss her shoulder, and then his mouth trailed down to her breasts. He took her nipple into his mouth and suckled it, gently at first, but then harder as she tossed her head back and raked her hands into his hair. His free hand moved down her abdomen and beneath the waistband of her pants, then undid them and slid them off her hips. He traced her hipbones down to her groin and back up again, and she cried out:

"Please, Amon. I need you to touch me."

A ripple of longing ran through his body. He dropped her nipple, then drifted down her stomach and between her legs. Breathing in her scent, he tasted her, and he delighted in her answering cry. One hand came to her lower back to hold her steady, and the other slid between her legs. Remembering diagrams in forbidden texts that he had studied with great interest in his curious teen years, his fingers sought to trigger sensitive erotic chi points. He knew he had hit one when she gave a shuddering moan and sagged against him. Pausing his work, he gently lowered her to the ground and crouched between her legs.

"Does it feel good, Korra?" he whispered, his fingers reclaiming their place between her legs.

She whimpered, and he felt her body quake. He knelt over her.

"I'm aching to be inside you," he said. "But first, I will to attend to you so that I can watch every spasm, every quiver of pleasure on your beautiful face." The honesty she had granted him was liberating: it added a whole new layer to their connection. He loved seeing the impact his words had on her, the sharp intakes of breath and slight pinch of her eyebrows.

Then his mouth pressed into her again. She panted his name; blood rushed to his groin at the sound. Her fingers twisted into his hair and she lifted her head, watching him with half-lidded eyes. He strained to comprehend the idea that she was watching his marred face and, by all appearances, found it pleasing. His free hand found hers and their fingers intertwined.

His name left her lips in a moan and her head tossed back, breaking their eye contact. Her hand twisted harder in his hair, the other tightening around his hand. He pressed her harder, faster...

She bucked beneath him and cried out again and again. He carried her through it, only stopping once she was still. Then, as she fell back to the grass, he crawled along her body and lay beside her. She rolled onto her side and buried her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around him.

"Sorry, I just need a second," she panted, her voice muffled.

His fingers slid along her spine, his mind patient and calm even though his body ached to continue.

"Okay," she said, and she lifted her head to nuzzle the underside of his jaw. "I'm ready." She gripped either side of his face and pulled him down for a long kiss before she began to move down his chest. Her hands and mouth began to explore his skin, the sensations so scattered and varied that he closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his mouth. Her tongue flicked a nipple and then began to rove down his abdomen. He tensed with anticipation, already remembering how good it had felt the last time she had attended to him.

Her fingers worked at the button of his pants, then pulled them off. She tried to unfasten the leather around his calves.

"Next time you come, just wear a bath towel," she grunted, struggling with the buckles.

With a soft laugh, he sat up to help her. She stopped to regard him.

"So that's what your smile looks like."

"I suppose you're the first person to see it since I was a child." He tugged one of the leather bindings free and set the cuff aside.

"It's much nicer than that smug smirk on your mask."

"Also much less permanent."

She arched a brow. "Was that- Did you just try to make a joke, Amon?"

"Maybe. Probably not a very good one. I'm a bit light-headed right now." The other cuff slid off.

"Understandable. I'm sorry to inform you that I'm planning to worsen that." She pulled the remainder of his clothes off and pressed him back to the grass.

Her lips had barely touched him when he shuddered. "Your mouth is so warm."

She hummed her approval and slid her hand along his thigh to his calf, then back up, spreading the warmth around his body like currents in water. The sensations were so strong that he had to stop watching her, squeezing his eyes shut to brace himself. Her mouth worked with the slow waves of pleasure, breaking contact just as each was about to crest, over and over. After several minutes, his hands clawed into the grass. His need for her was growing urgent, almost painful.

"Korra," he finally gasped. "I can't..." He couldn't find any more words.

She pulled away, looking a little pleased with herself as she kissed back along his body and found his lips. He raked his hand into her hair and tilted his head, hungry to taste her. Then he pressed his forehead against hers.

"I want to be inside you," he said, and he heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Please," she breathed.

He gripped her shoulder and gently rolled her, spooning behind her. She reached back to guide him, and as they joined, he felt a shudder ripple through her and into him. He wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss the back of her neck as they began to rock together. Their hands clasped together over her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, and all thought faded from Amon's mind. There was just her scent, her taste, her warmth, her hand in his... She began to moan in time with their movements, and he curled into her back, squeezing her as tightly as he could, desperate to become one with her.

Suddenly, she reached back and caught his hip to steady him. "I want to watch you." She broke away to roll onto her back, pulling him on top of her in one smooth movement.

He thrust into her and his hands rose to catch either side of her face. Her cheeks were flushed, glowing with a faint sheen of sweat; her eyes watched him with purpose, almost challenging him. He moved harder, faster. She held his gaze for a few seconds longer, but then her moans began to rise in pitch.

Then her face contorted, so beautiful and raw, and his control eroded entirely. He barely pulled out in time, his cries mingling with hers.

When the last pulse faded, he fell to the grass beside her, all four limbs tingling. Warm, drowsy contentment washed over him. He had just enough energy to find her hand with his before the fatigue pulled him under.

.*.*.*.

That night, Amon found himself once again looking upon his unnamed spirit saviour, its black, wispy form embracing him.

_Little one,_  it breathed,  _I will not let bloodbending be your end. There is still much work to do, and your borrowed time has not expired._

A wisp smoothed the side of his mask, and then the dream faded.

.*.*.*.

Amon sat up. Korra shifted beside him, still sleeping. He bent down to softly kiss her temple; she gave a small moan, but did not wake. Gathering his clothing, he began to dress.

The night sky was still dark. If he left now, he would still be able to get a decent sleep before his showdown with Tarrlok. Amon lifted his mask to examine it, his dream still fresh on his mind. He had been so focused on becoming a martyr that he hadn't considered the alternative, and he wasn't sure how to process the hope that rose within him. He held the mask in his hand, unable to bring himself to buckle it in place just yet.

His first instinct was to climb over the wall and leave Korra to sleep, but if this was the last time he would see her, he wanted a proper goodbye. Kneeling beside her, he gently shook her awake.

"Amon?" Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. "It's cold. Did we fall asleep?" She grabbed her clothes and quickly pulled on her shirt and pants.

"It's time for me to leave."

Her face fell, but she nodded. He held out a hand to help her up.

"Here," she said, and she braced her stance and thrust her hands at the ground. The earthen walls around them sank. Then she stood in front of him.

"Please be careful, Amon." She cupped his jaw. "I know you said that there is no happy ending for us, but let's try for one that is not too sad."

"They say that the same souls reincarnate together, lifetime after lifetime," he said quietly. "If we do not meet again in this lifetime, Korra, then I will meet you in the next."

He kissed her hard, pulling her close, and then stepped away. Their hands trailed until he was out of reach.

Buckling on his mask, he turned and then lowered himself over the cliff edge. Their eyes locked one last time. She stood with her hands folded tightly over her chest, shivering, the cold breeze scattering her hair and her clothes. His throat tightened, but he gave her a farewell nod.

Then he began his descent.

.*.*.*.

Amon gently shook his third awake. "Midori."

She sat bolt upright and, recognizing him, relaxed. "Amon." After a brief hesitation, she added, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." He sat in the seat beside her, ramrod-straight.

Her sidelong glance said that she didn't believe him. "If you need a moment-"

"I had a moment. It is time to prepare." His fingers curled into the armrest. "It is time for Tarrlok to be equalized."


	11. Avatar

**XI  
Avatar**

Amon tightened the last leather strap on his bracer, flexing his hand. His eyes slid closed and he listened to the heavy drone of the airship motor, searching for peace in its constancy. A knock at the door interrupted his concentration; his third-in-command poked her head into the room, dressed in combat garb.

"The lieutenant has the teams assembled, Amon. They're waiting for you."

Wordlessly, he followed her to the cargo hold. The Equalist forces stood at attention, split into three platoons. The lieutenant stood in front of the first, and his third-in-command moved to the head of the third platoon as Amon strode into the hold. He stepped onto the podium at the head of the room, a slight thrill tumbling in its stomach as it always did before he addressed his brothers and sisters. As his eyes travelled across the faces of his forces, each of them ready to put their lives on the line for the cause, pride swelled in his chest. He channelled his pride into his words, opening his hands to the crowd:

"My brothers and sisters, Councilman Tarrlok has taken this city from us and placed it squarely in the corrupt hands of the benders, pretending that he acts in the name of justice. He has taken our friends, our families, our freedom. Today, we remind him that this city cannot be taken from us. Today, we remind him that we will neither be intimidated nor bullied." His voice crescendoed. "Today, we teach Tarrlok that the Equalists are the true keepers of justice in Republic City."

The hold erupted into applause, and adrenaline began to course through Amon's veins. Tarrlok truly did not know what was in store.

The airship began a gentle descent as Amon stepped aside; the lieutenant took the podium.

"Strike Force, this will be your stop, so prepare to disembark," said the lieutenant. "That includes you, Amon."

Amon moved to the head of the second platoon and fell into line with the others. His muscles vibrated with anticipation.

"Support Force," continued the lieutenant, "eyes on me: we'll be landing in the shipyards to prepare the mechs. Liberation Force, you'll be the third and final stop. Ensign Midori will be your leader. We'll keep the majority of the police force busy while you empty the jails." Never one to bother trying to end on a high note, he left the podium to return to his troops.

A voice buzzed over the speakers: "Strike Force, prepare for drop."

Amon stepped onto the drop platform and closed his eyes, setting his hands in front of his chest to centre himself. The sounds around him muted until all he could hear were his breaths, slow and even against the inside of his mask.

_Your breath is the core of all the physical skills that you will master._

He arced his fingers, focusing his chi.

_This is how you will control them, little one. This is how you will bring balance._

The platform beneath him shuddered, then began to lower.

Amon's eyes opened to seek his target.

.*.*.*.

Korra groaned. "Go away, Naga." She pushed away the polar bear dog's face and burrowed under the pillow where her companion's tongue couldn't reach her face. Naga whined, and Korra groaned again. "Just a few more minutes." Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could return to the pleasant dream, the one where a half-naked Amon had been-

She sat bolt upright. Amon! What time was it? The sun was high in the sky, and she could smell cooking vegetables from the kitchen.

Cursing, she awkwardly tugged on her clothes as she ran to the kitchen. "What time is it?" she demanded of the acolytes, tying her waist-cape into place.

"Good morning, Korra," said Pema, appearing from behind her with a friendly smile. "You certainly slept late today. It's nearly noon."

Korra bit her tongue to stifle an expletive. "I have to go!" She turned and bolted for the door.

Behind her, Pema called, "Be safe, Korra. The others are outside waiting for you."

Waiting for her? Korra flew through the temple entrance and then skidded to a halt. Bolin, Mako and Asami sat on the grass by the stairs; they looked up at her as she approached.

"Going somewhere?" asked Bolin, hastily standing. The others stood beside him.

Korra sighed. "Yes, but alone."  
"You forget," said Asami, flexing the fingers of her lightning glove. "We're Team Avatar now."

"No." Korra shook her head. "It's too dangerous. Both Tarrlok's forces and the Equalists will be there."

"All the more reason that you need our help," said Mako.

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "I'm not going to be able to talk you guys out of this, am I?"

"Not a chance," said Bolin.

"And you'll need a fast way to get to the docks," said Tenzin's voice above them. Korra looked up as a shadow passed over them: his sky bison. The enormous beast landed beside them, and Tenzin waved them on. "Hurry."

Korra patted Naga's nose, sad to be leaving the polar bear dog behind, but there was no time to sail her across. "Take care of Pema and the kids, Naga." After a final affectionate scratch of the animal's ears, she took her place on the sky bison. "Tenzin, you don't have to do this."

"Of course I do," he said. "My father built this city. What kind of son would I be if I didn't help defend it from two of the most threatening forces it has ever seen?"

The lump in Korra's throat swelled. "Thank you. All of you." She pulled Mako, Asami and Bolin in for a group hug, ruffling Bolin's hair.

Tenzin cleared his throat, never one for sentiment. "Everyone aboard?"

"Yes, sir," said Bolin.

"Good. Hang on tightly. Yip, yip!"

.*.*.*.

Amon's eyes locked onto Tarrlok as the drop platform hit the docks. The councilman stood in the centre of the dock, neatly groomed, his arms folded behind his back and a smirk on his face. Behind him stood the police force – just over two dozen, Amon estimated, though a quick scan suggested that a few police boats might be stationed nearby. He had nearly forty Equalists at his back, not including the lieutenant's platoon that would be aiding from the ships. Perhaps this was winnable yet.

As the Equalists fell into formation behind him, Amon walked forward, eyes always locked on Tarrlok. The floating dock creaked beneath him; the logs were old, almost rotten, and he kept his balance carefully guarded in case any of them should give way. Once he was about twenty feet away from Tarrlok, he stopped and held his ground.

They stared one another down, silent. A breeze wafted between them, and Amon wrinkled his nose at the heavy perfumes coming off of his opponent.

"You asked," said Tarrlok, "and I came. I should warn you that if I win this fight, you and your supporters are going to prison for a very, very long time." Craning his neck to look past Amon, he added, "Do they all know that?"

"My brothers and sisters are united. There is no punishment you can threaten that is worse than your tyranny." He studied the councilman. "And what of your forces, Tarrlok? Do they believe in your cause, or are they obeying you out of a blind sense of lawful duty?"

Tarrlok held up a hand. "Please, Amon. I'm not done yet. I want to make absolutely sure that your followers know what the stakes really are...and who they are following."

"Tarrlok!" yelled a voice from the sky. Korra. Amon's pulse surged, but he kept his eyes on Tarrlok until the councilman looked up; only then did Amon look as well. She was riding a sky bison, accompanied by her friends. He studied her with the guarded eyes of battle, carefully packaging away his feelings for her.

The sky bison landed at the edge of the dock and Korra leaped off, her friends following.

Behind Amon, the Equalists began to stir, but he held up a hand to stop them.

"I told you stay away, Avatar," he said.

She ignored him, her jaw set as she took several strides forward, forming a triangle with them. "Tarrlok, you have nowhere to run."

"Korra? Are you siding with the Equalists over me?" Tarrlok folded his arms over his chest. "Over the Council, the police force?"

"The Equalists will get their turn, but this is about you. You're destroying the city far more quickly than they ever did. You've arrested thousands of innocent people, and manipulated the police force to follow your own corrupt ideals." Her glare deepened. "And you attacked me and blamed it on the Equalists."

Surprised murmurs sounded among the police force. Tarrlok's grin twisted. Amon tried to track the conversation forward to figure out what ace the man had up his sleeve. Had they left any loose ends? Suddenly, his eyes widened.

The letter to Midori.

"It's convenient that both Amon and the Avatar are here at the same time, isn't it?" said Tarrlok. "Almost as if they are working together. Or more."

Amon began to close the space between them. Behind him, the whirr of Equalist weapons sounded.

Noticing their advance, the councilman's hand darted into the front of his coat. He fanned out three photos, holding them high.

"Equalists and friends of the Avatar, I present to you your leaders."

.*.*.*.

Korra yelled and sent a bolt of fire at the photos. Startled, Tarrlok dropped them on the damp surface of the dock, where they smouldered and then disintegrated. He cocked a brow at her, smirking.

"Seems I hit a nerve."

The compulsive movement did seem like an admission of guilt, she realized with regret. She had been too slow, anyway; they were already engraved in her mind, and probably everyone else's as well. Three photos, all from the night that Amon had seen movement in the bushes. They were grainy and dark, but their silhouettes were unmistakable. In the first, she had been gripping his collar, their noses practically touching. In the second, he had been gripping her wrists – pulling them away from his throat, she remembered, but the movement looked far more tender in the moment the photographer had captured. In the third, she had been peering suspiciously outside her room, Amon clearly visible in the background.

"What are you trying to do, Tarrlok?" yelled Tenzin from behind her. "That was libel!"

"I only present the facts, Tenzin. Aside from those photos, my surveillance officers have transcripts of two separate meetings between Amon and Avatar Korra, incontrovertible evidence that they are romantically involved." Tarrlok arched a brow. "Right under your roof, Tenzin."

Two separate meetings? Which was the second? Korra's head spun. She could feel the stunned gazes of her friends boring into her from behind.

"Preposterous," intoned Amon. He had stopped his advance, and he stood tall, staring down his opponent once again. "Brothers and sisters, Councilman Tarrlok knows he cannot beat us, so he seeks to erode us with lies."

"I wasn't finished." The councilman folded his hands behind his back. "Equalists, I give you a choice. Take a good long look at Amon, at the man who claims to hate all benders, yet has spent sordid nights in the embrace of the Avatar herself. Is this the man you want to follow into battle against your Council, your police force? Is this a man for whom you would risk arrest and imprisonment?" His eyes trailed across them. "Join me now, and you will receive a full pardon for any prior involvement with the Equalists."

"He is lying, manipulating you. Do not play into his hand." There was a frustrated growl to Amon's voice that Korra had not heard before.

"And Avatar Korra." The councilman's eyes honed in on her. "You are required to submit to interrogation regarding your involvement with the Equalists, effective immediately. Should you resist, you will be arrested. Should anyone aid her, they will be arrested as well."

Her jaw quivered as she turned back to her friends and mentor. "You heard him. Leave."

"Korra," said Tenzin. She met his eyes and immediately wished she hadn't; he looked betrayed. Crushed. "Please tell me that Tarrlok is lying."

She tried to escape his gaze by looking away, but instead only found the hurt gazes of her other friends. Fatigue settled on her shoulders, weighed her down, and she realized that she didn't have the energy to continue the lie. "I must face the consequences for my choices."

"Oh, Korra," whispered Asami, the words drawn out with disappointment.

"You lied to me," said Bolin, his eyes watering. "I gave you several opportunities to tell me, and you didn't."

"What the hell, Korra?" Mako stepped forward, his teeth bared. "Amon is a monster! He tried to take Bolin's bending, and look what he has done to the city."

"I know! Please, leave. All of you. You'll get arrested if you don't." She turned her back to them so that she didn't have to see their faces, but guilt still clawed at her stomach.

"Last chance," announced Tarrlok from the centre of the dock. "Full amnesty to anyone who sees reason now."

Behind Amon, the Equalists began to stir. Korra counted ten that stepped forward, pulling off their masks and crossing the dock. Amon's stance was rigid, his eyes locked on his enemy, not even flinching as the defectors passed him.

"Your lies will not be my end, Tarrlok," said Amon, his voice deep. "But I will be yours." He dashed toward him, his troops moving forward as well.

Tarrlok grinned. His hands rose.

The dock vibrated, then groaned. Korra stumbled, barely righting herself in time to see the back logs of the deck explode. One by one, they burst, a shower of ice crystals fluttering in the air behind them. The Equalists stopped their advance, looking behind them in confusion as their ground began to disappear.

He was bending the waterlogged wood, realized Korra – swelling the water into ice to shatter it. She fell into stance and focused her energy into her hands, trying to counteract the bending, but the compartmentalized structure of the wood confused her and she only managed to slow it. The back line of Equalists fell into the water, the others panicking as they tried to push forward.

"On it," yelled Bolin behind Korra, and she turned to see him drop into a low stance and thrust his arms into the air. A platform of soil rose from the depths; he was lifting the sea floor. He moved the earth into place where the docks had been. The fallen Equalists began to clamber onto it.

Korra grinned in spite of herself. "I thought I told you to leave."

"I don't trust Amon," said Bolin solemnly. "But I trust you enough to stay by your side."

"And we want to see Tarrlok stopped before he ruins the city beyond repair." Mako stepped beside him, followed by Asami. "We'll keep the police forces off your hands so you can focus on him."

Korra's heart swelled. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you that-"

"We'll talk about it later," said Bolin. "Go get Tarrlok."

.*.*.*.

Amon ignored the sound of splintering wood behind him, honing in on Tarrlok. He leaped, fingers drawn and ready to strike the man's neck.

The councilman blasted a wall of ice between them. Time slowed. Amon's eyes sought its weakest point:  _there_. Still mid-leap, he drove his fingers into the ice; it splintered and then shattered, barely slowing him down. He landed at Tarrlok's feet and immediately swung underneath the councilman's follow-up ice bolts, sweeping out the councilman's legs.

Metal cables appeared in his periphery. Amon flipped high into the air, avoiding them. He landed behind the group of charging officers and jabbed his fingertips up the backs of two of them before they could turn. They sagged, their bending temporarily removed, but the others turned on him. Behind them, Tarrlok stood, recovered from his fall.

Amon's eyes ticked between them. Seven. He should be able to handle seven.

An unmasked Equalist, one of the traitors, came up on Amon's left, trying to chi-block him. Pathetic. Amon caught his wrist and wrenched it. More metal cables shot at him, and he used the traitor as a shield, spinning harmlessly away behind him. Other officers had joined in the fray now; he counted ten advancing enemies. Ten might be a challenge.

A glint in the corner of his eye attracted his attention; he turned his head just in time to see an enormous wave crashing toward him. He ducked and barrelled through the smallest two officers, barely making it out of the wave's path; it pulled several officers off of the dock instead.

Now he had stumbled into the thick of the fray. Around him, officers and the Avatar's friends were locked in combat. A cable wrapped around his wrist. Amon caught it and tugged the officer toward him, stabbing a finger into the officer's neck to knock him out. Another cable wrapped around his feet, and Amon fell.

The officers crushed in around him, each eager to be the one to capture him. All four of his limbs were caught now; the officers pulled the cables taught, suspending him a couple feet above the dock. Amon wrenched at the bonds, but his captors were too strong to yield.

"An admirable attempt," said Tarrlok, and Amon turned his head to see the man approach.

Behind him, Korra was stalking her prey, an army of dripping wet Equalists following behind her.

"The law recommends that I give you a trial," said Tarrlok, leaning over him to gloat. "But you've caused so many problems that I can't help but think that if you accidentally died in battle, no one would bat an eye."

Amon focussed on Korra's approach out of the corner of his eye. He subtly tested the tension against all four of his limbs. Right leg was weakest.

Korra yelled and thrust her arm forward, her flaming fist aiming for Tarrlok's head. He turned and summoned a shield of water to douse it.

The officers that held Amon captive turned as well.

It was all the distraction that Amon needed.

He drove his right knee toward his body, breaking the weakest of the bonds, and twisted. Using the momentum of the spin, he jerked his left arm, yanking the metal out of the hands of the distracted officers. He landed on his feet and drilled his fingertips along the arm of the officer who still held his right hand, then ricocheted in the opposite direction to do the same to his final captor. The metal slid from his body. The officer who had held his left leg lunged forward to attack, but Amon caught his arm, redirecting him, and dodged out of the fray...

...just as the Equalist forces pushed into it.

Afforded a moment to survey the battle, Amon focused on Tarrlok. The councilman and the Avatar were locked in combat. He had formed a shield of water around himself and was shooting ice crystals at Korra; she was blasting flame at him, melting the crystals as they approached. Tarrlok was gaining ground.

His back was open.

Amon lunged for him, bursting through the shield of water and jabbing his fingers into Tarrlok's spine. The councilman yelled and arched his back, sinking to his knees. The water shield fell to the dock around him, useless. The councilman turned, his teeth bared, but Amon had already rolled around to his front.

"Leave the Avatar, Tarrlok. This fight is between you and me." Amon waited, standing in his fighting stance. There was no honour in equalizing the man after attacking from behind. Head-on, with Tarrlok at full power, was the only proper way.

"You do not know who you are dealing with," said Tarrlok, flexing his arms and standing.

"Amon," said Korra, but he didn't look back at her.

"Leave, Avatar. This is not your fight." His eyes traced the councilman's figure, looking for the slightest of movements that would indicate that his bending had returned.

There. A flex of his hand. By the time Tarrlok had raised it and manipulated a bolt of ice, Amon was already on the move, weaving toward him. He lunged and then thrust up beneath the man's arm. The ice bolt flew wide. Amon spun Tarrlok to his knees and fell into place behind him. His hand dropped toward the man's neck.

Suddenly, Amon's muscles seized, and his body flew backwards as if kicked. He landed in a heap several feet away. He sat up just in time to see a barrage of ice plummeting toward him. He tried to roll out of the way, but his seizing muscles would not respond...

The ice shards halted. They hung mid-air, inches from his body.

"Tarrlok," yelled Korra. She leaped over Amon, landing in front of him, and dropped her arms. The ice shards clattered harmlessly to the dock. She blasted flame at the councilman, pressing the assault. Amon stared, realizing that she had yet again saved his life.

A whistle filled the air.

The mechs.

"Korra, get down!" Amon flattened against the dock.

She barely dropped in time, and Tarrlok managed to as well, but the group of Equalists and officers behind them weren't so lucky. A metal claw on a chain plowed into the troops, sending them flying into the water. Around them, the ships closed in on the dock, Equalist mechs lining the decks. More claws launched at the battlefield. Korra rolled to him, barely avoiding one.

"More weapons? Are you trying to start all-out war?"

"One way or another, we're going to win this," he said. "Stay down until I stand." He counted three claws. Four. Several of his own forces were being pushed into the water along with the police, and he saw the earthbending friend of Korra's fall in as well, but the strikes were generally accurate. By the time the eighth had fired, only Tarrlok and a handful of other fighters remained, most of them Equalist allies.

Amon stood, and Korra stood beside him. Tarrlok was already on his feet and advancing. The councilman's face was twisted with genuine rage now, his lips curled in a sneer. Amon recognized that look well, for he had caused it on many occasions. The look of a man about to break.

"Enough!" Tarrlok held up clawed hands.

Amon felt his muscles seize again, cramps shooting up and down his limbs. Beside him, Korra groaned and crumpled, her body quivering against the dock. Around them, the Equalists forces sank to the dock as Tarrlok held them fast.

Though his body shuddered, Amon stood tall, a smirk on his face behind his mask.

_Little one, I will not let bloodbending be your end._

Tarrlok's eyes widened. "How are you-"

Not giving him time to finish, Amon reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke bomb. It exploded in front of Tarrlok, engulfing him in a cloud of smoke.

All at once, the bloodbending released its hold on everyone around him.

"He needs line of sight," said Amon for Korra's benefit, and he sprinted into the smoke. Bolts of fire whizzed past his head and shoulders, and he realized Korra was covering him. He arced his hands in front of himself to fan the smoke, clearing a path at its centre – and revealing a surprised Tarrlok. A fresh burn mark scored his cheek; one of Korra's bolts must have hit its mark.

The councilman bared his teeth and clawed the air, bloodbending with so much effort that sweat trailed down his temples. Stiffness rippled through Amon's body, but he felt the spirit's energy flowing through his veins, protecting him, and he used that to push through the pain. He caught Tarrlok's wrist and twisted, forcing the man yet again to his knees. His hand clamped onto the back of the councilman's neck.

"Why isn't it working?" Tarrlok's lips twisted.

Amon felt the bloodbending intensify. Struggling, he raised his hand in the air, then began to lower it against the resistance. He poured all of his focus into the movement, his hand shaking as it approached Tarrlok's forehead. A few more inches, and the battle would be over.

"Amon," yelled Korra behind him, her voice strained by the bloodbending. "His hand!"

He looked down just in time to see Tarrlok's fist, encased in a solid ice spike, driving for his throat. He jerked his head out of the way, but the bloodbending slowed him, and he couldn't quite clear it.

The crack of the contact exploded in his ears, reverberated through his body. He staggered backwards, hands outstretched to try to regain his balance.

A small, white shard was spinning through the air in front of his eyes, then dropped. It fell into his open palm.

Porcelain.

He sank to one knee and brought a hand to his face. The bottom left corner of his mask was missing. Shorn off. His ears rang, dulling his senses.

Above the haze that fogged his mind he saw Tarrlok diving at him, ice spike bared, looking to finish the job. Amon did not move, his hand coiling protectively around the shard of his mask.

Korra barrelled into Tarrlok, knocking him aside. Her yells were audible even above the ringing in Amon's ears. Behind the raging battle, officers and Equalists alike stared with open mouths as Tarrlok bloodbent the Avatar into submission.

All but one.

"Korra!" yelled the earthbender boy, and a chunk of earth burst from the water and dropped in front of her. Tarrlok's control broke and she slumped against the rock, breathing hard.

A whistle sounded from one of the ships, and Amon realized that another round was due to fire. Barely in control of his body, he rushed toward Korra and slid, landing beside her just in time to pull her flat to the ground.

The weapons began to fire around them.

"Thanks, Amon. We make a good team, don't we?" Korra rolled her cheek along the ground to look at him, and her smirk faded. "Your mask!"

He could see in the reflection of her eyes what he had already felt: the mask was all white. No markings.

Six, he counted. Seven. When the eighth weapon fired, he sat back up and released Korra. He pressed against the rock and peered around the corner. Tarrlok was on all fours, gasping, the exertion of bloodbending catching up to him. They had maybe a minute before he recovered, he estimated. Behind him, the officers and Equalists had forgotten their shock and were once more engaged in combat.

"Listen carefully, Korra," he said, turning to her. "My connection with the spirit has been severed. I won't be able to energybend or resist his bloodbending anymore."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I can feel it. But Tarrlok doesn't know it. He perceives me to be the greater threat. I can provide the perfect opening for you to catch him off guard."

"No, Amon," she said, and he could tell she already knew where he was headed. He gripped her hands, staring intently at her.

"Listen! We have to keep him off of you long enough for you to surprise him. His eyes will leave me once my weakness is revealed, so your window will be short. You must succeed where I failed: you must take his bending."

"I don't know how!"

"Then kill him. Do not let him get away, whatever happens." His eyes searched hers. "History must remember this as a heroic sacrifice, or it will have no meaning."

"Sacrifice! No, you don't have to do this." A tear trailed down her cheek.

His throat tightened. He slid his thumb across her cheek to wipe the tear. "My gifts are gone. This is the greatest thing I can do for my cause now, Korra." His voice caught as he realized that the only thing that scared him about dying was never seeing her again. "My soul will find yours again one day. I promise."

She swallowed hard. "If there's a war going on next time our souls meet, then let's reincarnate on the same side of it, okay? I don't think my soul is strong enough to take all of this a second time." She tried to give a smile, but it wobbled and then crumpled as her tears overflowed.

A rush of air left him, something close to a sob. He lifted his mask and pulled her in, breathing in her scent and warmth as their mouths met. His eyes closed as he savoured her taste, as he poured all that had been left unsaid into his hands, his lips. A tear surprised him, trailing down his cheek.

Movement sounded on the other side of the wall; they were out of time.

Amon broke the kiss and stood, pulling his mask back into place.

"Goodbye, Korra," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Amon." Her jaw quivered.

Their hands met, palm to palm, one last contact.

Then he turned away and stepped around the barrier.

.*.*.*.

Korra swallowed a sob and swabbed at her eyes, trying to centre herself. She was a warrior. The Avatar. She must not waste this opportunity to set things right. Edging close to the opposite edge of the boulder, she peered around it.

Amon and Tarrlok faced one another, their positions matching the ones they had taken at the beginning of the fight.

The councilman's damp hair hung in his face, and his face was twisted into a sneer. "I see you changed masks," he called. "Did I break the old one?"

"You are delaying your inevitable defeat with banter, Tarrlok."

Korra's mind swam. How was she supposed to energybend Tarrlok? Her fingers flexed and curled into fists. She would have to kill him instead.

Amon began to circle the councilman and gestured at the battling officers around them. "Your confidence is foolish. Even if you are to best me, they have all seen your bloodbending. Do you think that will go unpunished?"

Tarrlok circled as well, matching his pace. "They will forgive me when I take down the biggest threat that Republic City has ever seen."

Heart beating in her throat, Korra realized that Amon was herding Tarrlok to turn his back to her. Once he had succeeded, she darted out from behind the barrier and fell into place behind the councilman. Slowly, she circled with him, trying to keep her movements undetectable.  _Be the leaf_ , she thought, and she was surprised to feel herself moving like an airbender. A dizzying pride flooded her mind. She was a hawk, circling its unsuspecting prey.

The circling halted, and she eased into stance, still at Tarrlok's back. Over his shoulder, Amon's eyes caught hers.

She nodded.

Amon charged at his foe, but his movements were slower than usual, less fluid. Tarrlok shot shards of ice, and one tore into Amon's bicep, blood streaming behind him like a flag as he ran. He was almost upon him now.

Korra began to close in from behind.

Tarrlok's hand rose and clenched.

There was a loud crunch as Amon's body seized. His yell of agony shot through Korra, hurting her more than she had expected. She froze, rooted in place.

"Not so immune anymore? Intriguing." Tarrlok jerked his hand upward. Puppet-like, Amon's body hovered in the air, his breaths harsh enough that Korra could hear them. From behind the mask, his eyes locked with hers one last time, white all the way around the irises. A man staring down his own death.

A scream caught in her throat, its pain choking her. Flames erupted around her fist and she charged. Her fist drove into the back of Tarrlok's head, knocking him sprawling. Amon fell to the ground, limp. Rage clouded her vision, and she leaped at Tarrlok, screaming and driving her fists into his back.

Suddenly, her muscles seized as Tarrlok took control. She grunted, trying to free herself. A sphere of water blossomed around them as a shield. Outside of it, she saw Mako and Bolin realize what was happening; their attacks bounced off the shield, harmlessly deflected.

Slowly, painfully, she felt herself lifted, suspended in the air just as Amon had been. Tarrlok grunted and struggled to his feet.

"Traitor," he spat. "Everything I ever did was for the good of this city. You were supposed to be her protector, Korra. You are a disgrace of an Avatar." He floated her so that she faced Amon. "First, you will watch your lover's end, and then I will rid the world of you so that a proper Avatar will be born."

Outside the water shield, Korra saw Mako, Bolin and Tenzin try to break through. Tarrlok saw it, too; the three fell to the ground, unconscious, and her rage deepened.

"Listen to yourself, Tarrlok," she managed through clenched teeth. "You've gone mad."

"I am the only one making sense!" He twisted his hand.

Amon's body writhed, then was horribly still. Blood burbled from his nose and mouth at first, pooling around him. Then it stopped pulsing.

But now she could hear the pulse in her ears. It was loud enough to hear even over the sob that left her lips.

Korra closed her eyes. Beneath her lids, her eyes began to twitch.

"It is your turn next," she heard Tarrlok's voice say, very far away. Wind was rushing into her body, every inch of her skin vibrating with raw energy. She heard snippets of voices, hundreds of them, all familiar and new at the same time. The raw energy sank below the surface and she withdrew deep inside her body, condensing, a glowing white spark, as the energy began to take over.

Her eyes opened, and her body was hers to control again.

She turned to face her attacker, ethereal wind whipping her clothes and hair. Tarrlok shrank away from her, his eyes wide. Reflected in his irises, she could see her own eyes, glowing white.

"You must be stopped," she said, her voice echoing with hundreds of others.

Her hands rose, calling the earthen boulder that Bolin had dropped for her earlier. It snapped into place around Tarrlok's body, holding him fast. He yelled and writhed, but she felt nothing. No pity, no anger. All she felt was the knowledge that he had to be stopped.

One hand pressed to his heart, the other to his forehead as she sent tendrils of energy into his body. They sought his bending abilities and, finding them, coiled around them and ripped them out by the root.

It was done.

She released Tarrlok from the earthen hold and he sank to all fours, gasping. Behind him, all fighting had stopped; all eyes were on her.

Turning her back to them, she knelt beside Amon's fallen form. Her hands waved and crested, pulling in water to encase his body in a blue glow. As her eyes slipped closed, she could feel generations of Avatars guiding her healing. Muscles knit back together, blood vessels rejoined and nerves began to fire. His heart began to beat. His lungs began to breathe.

But his chi would not flow.

_No._ She ran her hands over his chest and felt only stagnation. Her fingers trailed up to the sharp edge of the shorn mask and her heart sank. The broken mask had something to do with this. She was sure of it.

_Please! What do I do?_  she asked her former selves, but there was no answer.

A howl of anguish left her lips. She heard voices calling her name behind her, felt hands trying to pull her away, trying to talk her down, but no, she would not let them take him from her! Whirling, she blasted air at everyone around her, blowing them back with such force that the docks cleared.

Then she shot a path of ice to the shore, gathered Amon in her arms and began to run.


	12. Spirit

**XII  
Spirit**

_Korra. Do not let the Avatar State control you. Do not let it feed off your anger._ **  
**

Deep within herself, Korra stirred, slowly becoming aware of her body. **  
**

_It is time to awaken._ **  
**

"Aang?" she whispered. **  
**

Her feet slowed, awareness returning as the state faded. Amon was limp in her arms, growing increasingly heavy now that her body was aware of her exhaustion. She spun in a slow circle to try to orient herself. It was still daytime, though the sky was cloudy and grey. The mountain path below her was littered with smashed trees and uprooted earth, and she wondered nervously if she had torn a path of destruction through the city. Above her was a small tunnel in a mass of scattered earth and debris. It took her a moment to recognize that this was Observation Mountain after the landslide, and the realization twisted like a knife in her heart. Why had her Avatar State-self come to a place of such confusion and emotion when she was already in so much pain? **  
**

Holding Amon close to her chest, she struggled up the steep embankment, her boots sinking into the churned soil. As she walked through the tunnel, the air coated her tongue with a familiar damp, earthy taste. The cave yawned before her, darker and smaller than she remembered. She blasted a ball of flame at the ceiling to light the room. Though they had only been trapped in it for a few days, each jutting rock and crack was so familiar that a wave of nostalgia crashed over her, and so many emotions warred for her attention that she only felt numb. Exhausted, she fell to her knees and lay her companion on the rocky floor. **  
**

"I think you've spent more time unconscious in this cave than conscious, Amon." Her voice cracked; it appeared she hadn't yet run out of emotions after all. Her hand pressed against the cheek of his stark white mask, thumb sliding against the bloodstained nose and mouth as if to wipe it clean. After a moment, she unbuckled it and lifted it off. His skin was warm, his breaths normal. If it weren't for the bloodstains on his face and the stagnant chi she had felt while in the Avatar State, she would have thought he was sleeping. **  
**

"Please, Amon," she whispered. "We've had so many goodbyes. I'm not sure I can take another one." She sank to his chest, her ear flush against his sternum. His heartbeat was deceptively strong, and her hands curled into his tunic. Why had she brought him back? Letting him linger in limbo like this was a mockery of his life. **  
**

Her hand reached down to grip his, which was clenched in a fist. "I'm sorry. I couldn't save you after all." She uncoiled his fingers one at a time, intending to lace her hands through his. **  
**

Nestled deep in his palm was a small white shard. **  
**

Korra sat up. Grabbing it, she shoved it against the fractured edge of his mask. It fit perfectly. **  
**

"Hang on," she told him. Maybe if she mended it, she could fix the severed link with his saviour spirit. She tried to earthbend, struggling a bit to balance the raw power of earthbending with the delicacy required by porcelain, but the material would not respond. **  
**

With a defeated sigh, she set the mask down.

If she couldn't fix it, she could at least clean the blood off it – and off Amon's face, while she was at it. She hurried down the tunnel to the pool and returned with an orb of water trailing behind her. Kneeling beside him and keeping the orb of water before her, she pulled off a cloth armband with her teeth and drenched it. She gently scrubbed his nose and mouth clean, focusing on the busy work so that she did not have a second to consider his condition. Next she attended to the mask. The blood lifted easily from the porcelain.

She stopped and squinted at the mask, then at the water. The mask had come from the spirit world, where animate and inanimate had different meaning than in her realm. Maybe earthbending was the wrong approach to try to fix the mask. Experimentally, she engulfed the mask and shard in water, intending to heal it. **  
**

The mask glowed blue. **  
**

At first, hope budded in her chest, but then it began to feel wrong. While she had expected the usual sensations of healing – a sense of union, of binding – she instead felt as if the mask were drinking her energy. Absorbing it. She pulled back against it a little and felt its strength increase. Gasping, she jerked away, breaking the contact. **  
**

For a second, she sat still, breathing hard, but then she became aware that something was watching her. A whisper of air breathed across the back of her neck. Slowly, she turned her head. **  
**

A dark wraith floated behind her, its shape barely distinguishable as humanoid. Its arms were long and wispy, and its body flickered in the light from her flame, unsteady, as if it were actually a shadow cast by a being she could not see. She blinked to try to clear it, feeling as if she were viewing it through a film or fogged glass. **  
**

"You have summoned me, Avatar." Its voice sounded directly in her mind without her ears hearing it. **  
**

"I did?" She looked down at the mask. **  
**

"Your energies reached through the fading link and guided me to this world." **  
**

"You are Amon's protector spirit?" **  
**

"Yes." **  
**

A shiver ran down her spine. Speaking with spirits, just like a real Avatar. This was not what she had expected – there was no feeling of deep connection or transcendence or supernatural clarity. All she felt was confusion.  **  
**

"Who are you?" she asked. **  
**

"I am an ambassador for many in the spirit world. A keeper of the balance." **  
**

"I am a keeper of the balance as well." **  
**

"A keeper of the balance, and yet you are trying to cheat the laws of death?" asked the spirit. **  
**

Korra's eyes traced Amon's prone form. "I'm trying to heal him." **  
**

"You cannot and will not succeed, because you do not understand the balance. His borrowed time has ended. It takes more than one man's spirit to recover from timely death, Avatar, and thus it is a great upset to the natural balance. Fate is an expensive force to overcome." **  
**

She tried to find a place in the shadowy black mass to focus upon. "That's why you gave him some of your spirit last time you brought him back, isn't it? To pay Fate's fee. Because he was fated to die that day, but you saw in him something that you needed, so it was worth upsetting the balance." **  
**

"You are half correct. We did not give him a part of my spirit, Avatar." **  
**

"Oh. He said-" **  
**

"We gave him a part of yours." **  
**

Her eyes widened. A growing sense of danger began to pit in her stomach. "What do you mean, you gave him a part of my spirit?" **  
**

"Your predecessor's." The spirit's voice grew in volume in her head. "As his life force was failing, we plucked a piece of his spirit - it was easy, like plucking rotten fruit from a tree. He was so frail that he did not have the spiritual fortitude to resist." **  
**

"Aang was a good man! Why would you harm his spirit?" **  
**

"The lifetime of Aang is only a drop in the ocean of your life. Your physical manifestations are but your masks, Avatar. Your soul, beneath it, is more bloodstained than any other in history, for you are the ambassador of all benders, all humans who have misused their gifts. Your task has always been to maintain the balance, and you have failed. So we intervened. We devised a solution." **  
**

The words sounded like they could have come from Amon. "You used him," she said. "He was your mouthpiece in a crusade against all benders. Against me." **  
**

"More than a mouthpiece: the guardian of your limits. A yin to your yang." **  
**

Korra glanced back at Amon. Once his mask had broken, she realized, she had suddenly started moving like an airbender and had unlocked the Avatar State. **  
**

"You gave him some of my abilities," she realized. "Airbending, right? That's why he moves like an airbender. And energybending. And maybe some part of the Avatar State." She had always wondered why Aang's dying wish had been for the Order of the White Lotus to protect her, in a time of no foreseeable war. Maybe his last encounter had been with this spirit; maybe he wanted to protect her from it. Korra's eyes darted to the exit, gauging the time it would take to snatch up Amon and run. Her instincts told her that she wouldn't make it. Diplomacy was going to be her only way out, at least temporarily. Her heart sank; what did she know of diplomacy with the spirits? **  
**

"Some of your abilities came along with your spirit," it said. "What better way to ensure balance, true neutrality, than with two halves of an Avatar on two opposing crusades?" **  
**

Protest formed on her lips, but she was too stunned to voice it. She picked up his mask and smoothed her thumb over the porcelain. A link between her spirit and Amon's, from before she had even been born. **  
**

"Tell your fellow spirits that your fears are unwarranted," she said. "My heart is pure and my will is strong. I see the corruption that bending has caused. I will fix the inequalities." **  
**

The shadowy form began to liquefy, its pieces running together and taking solid shape. Its torso was long and cylindrical, with arms and legs twisted together like wire. Its face was blank, a solid black lump. Korra took a step back and crouched between the spirit and Amon, muscles coiled. **  
**

"We can offer you a choice, Avatar," said the spirit, its voice reaching her ears now. "His life force is stagnant, and it is only a matter of time until his body realizes this and passes from this plane. We can save him, if you are willing to once again relinquish the piece of your soul that he possessed." **  
**

She tensed. "Then I could never become a fully realized Avatar." **  
**

"You claim to be pure of heart. How, then, could you choose your own ambitions over your lover's life? Over true balance?" **  
**

"They aren't just ambitions. They're the entire reason for my existence." Her brows dropped. "The Avatar Cycle comes from the planet herself. A small group of disgruntled spirits does not have the right to tamper with it." **  
**

"We are waiting for your response." **  
**

"This is not a fair choice; your price is too high. There must be another way to save him." **  
**

"It is the only way. The spirits I represent would never allow me to use my powers in a way that does not limit yours." **  
**

Turmoil churned in her stomach. For a moment, she hesitated, but deep down, she knew what fate required.

She sank to Amon's side and pressed her forehead to his. Her palms smoothed either side of his face, memorizing every contour, every nuance to the textured skin. "I'm sorry, Amon," she whispered. "I loved you." A final soft kiss to his lips, a moment to steady herself, and then she stood and faced the spirit. "There is no choice. My role as the Avatar is more important to this world than anyone's life. Even his."

The spirit did not speak. She could feel it watching her. Her fists clenched and she blinked back her tears. "Did you hear me, spirit? I refuse your offer!" **  
**

"You are greedy," it said. "You choose to keep your powers out of twisted desire for control, completely disregarding the balance. You are not worthy." Wind began to kick up around her, ruffling her clothes. "You have been corrupted by your power. You are a problem that must be solved." **  
**

A black hand darted toward her. **  
**

She felt the rush of the Avatar State blossoming in her chest to protect her, but it didn't take control in time. The spirit's hand was already on her forehead. There was a great tearing deep within her, and she shrieked. Then she fell to her knees, breathing hard. **  
**

"What did you do to me?" she demanded, sagging to all fours.

Amon's mask, by her left hand, began to glow. The porcelain shard snapped into place as if pulled, and the markings reformed, the colours new and bright, gold and red. **  
**

Behind her, she heard stirring. Her heart caught in her throat. She didn't turn around, too afraid that her ears were playing tricks on her. **  
**

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amon's hand clamp over the mask and tug it from view. **  
**

"Balance will be maintained," said the spirit. "The unworthy shall be punished."

.*.*.*.

Amon buckled the mask into place, and then his eyes opened. The cave? Was he dead? The last thing he remembered was agonizing pain, then blood filling his nose and mouth...

His vision came into focus. Korra was on all fours before him, and he started to move to her, but stopped when he saw the spirit looming above her. His protector. Awe washed over him. Had the spirit saved him again, just as it had when he was a boy? **  
**

" _Welcome back, little one_ ," said the spirit's voice in his mind. **  
**

"Spirit. What has happened?" he asked, but his lips did not move. Wind rushed through his ears.

Korra spun to look up at him, and her eyes widened. She said something, but he heard nothing above the wind and the spirit's voice:

" _She chose for you to die."_

Amon shook his head. "You must be mistaken, spirit. That is not in Korra's nature."

" _I gave her a choice between saving you and relinquishing a fraction of her bending abilities, or letting you die. She chose bending. Even the Avatar is corruptible by power."_

The choice shouldn't have surprised him, but he couldn't stop a frown from overtaking his mouth. "And then you saved me."

" _Yes, little one. You still have much to do."_

Korra was standing now, screaming at him. "What is she saying? She looks distressed." He strained his ears and there was a high-pitched whistling, like steam escaping from a vent, finally yielding to a burst of sound:

"-hear what I am saying? Amon, answer-"

The muteness muffled his ears again, and he felt his anxiety drain from him as the spirit continued to speak:

" _You must end all those who are corrupt."_ A pause. " _All of them. The time has come, little one. Do not disappointment me."_

The wind in his ears finally faded and he blinked, groggy.

"Please say something," said Korra, gripping his arms.

He stepped away to break the contact. "My benefactor tells me that you chose my death."

She flinched. "That isn't the whole story, Amon. I tried so hard to save you. Tarrlok killed you, and I was able to heal you, but your chi-"

"She chose to let you die," said the spirit's voice, real this time. "This, after she tore a hole through Republic City in grief, in your name."

"No I didn't." Korra's face paled as she snapped her gaze to the spirit. "Did I?"

"She does not even remember, so consumed was she by her corrupt power." The spirit's words were like tendrils in his mind, coiling around his thoughts. "She must be equalized."

"No!" Turning back to him, she gripped his arm. "Listen to me, Amon: the spirits are using you. Back when they first saved you, they took a piece of my spirit so that I cannot become a fully-realized Avatar. They gave you my airbending and spiritbending, and-"

Her voice faded out as Amon's senses dulled.  _Airbending._ The word was like a missing gear fitting into place. He thought of his ability to move with great dexterity at high speed, to jump higher than his peers, to easily clear mist and smoke with a wave of his hand - had he been bending his whole life without realizing it? Didn't that mean that his entire crusade had been built on a lie?

Looking down at her face, he remembered the soft flesh of her lips on his, her little half-smile when he said something that pleased her, the way she gasped his name when they made love...

_"Do not let her sway you!"_ **  
**

Amon yelled through clenched teeth against the cacophony in his mind, doubling over and stepping back. Thoughts warred for his attention, and it was impossible to tell which were his own. Self-control was sifting through his hands like sand. **  
**

"What are you doing to him?" demanded Korra. **  
**

"Helping him see the truth," said the spirit. **  
**

"Get out of his head!" With a yell, she kicked a blast of flame at the spirit, but her foot went right through it as if it weren't even there.

She dared to attack his protector, the benevolent spirit who had saved his life twice? His heart sank as he realized that the spirit was right: she had lost all control. His heart broke at the thought of destroying her – the anguish was almost unbearable – but his whole life had been building toward her destruction. They had both known this was coming. The balance had to be maintained. **  
**

"Enough." Amon righted himself. "Avatar Korra, it is time for you to be cleansed of your impurity."  **  
**

"This spirit is manipulating you," she said, whirling to face him. "You aren't thinking clearly." **  
**

"I am thinking more clearly than I ever have." This had to be his path. It had to be the correct choice. The only other option was that his entire life had been built on lies.

She tried to stare him down, but he held her gaze, carefully keeping all emotion from his eyes. Finally seeing that he wasn't going to yield, she took a deep breath and readied her stance. **  
**

"I guess you're finally getting your showdown after all," she said bitterly. **  
**

"Do not make this any harder than it has to be, Korra." He lowered his body into stance as well. "We always knew how this would end."

He ran at her.

She launched a rocky spike beneath his feet; he easily dodged. Another spike. She was herding him into a blast of flame. He swept his arms in front of himself to part the flames and leaped cleanly through it, landing in front of her.

"You just used airbending," she said. The words were like a blow to the head. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to finish his task, and stabbed at her with his fingertips. She blocked each of his attempts, fiercely matching his speed. Her fist drove for his mask, as he had anticipated; he ducked and stabbed a trail up her flank. She slumped to her knees.

Her eyes were fierce. "It doesn't have to end like this. You don't have to be their pawn. This isn't who you truly are, Amon. It's who the spirits have moulded you to be."

" _Do not be swayed, little one. Your mission is almost complete."_

Sweat beaded on his temples. His hand clamped onto the back of her neck. Closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to watch, he raised his hand.

"I'm sorry, Korra. I won't enjoy this," he said. A tear leaked from one of his eyes as he began to lower his thumb.

"I believe you," she said, her voice quiet. "I love you."

His thumb froze, inches from her forehead.

" _Finish it."_

He opened his eyes. She stared intently up at him. "I love you," she said again, sincere, and a ray of hope shone through the uproar in his mind. Maybe the spirit's words were half-truths after all. Why would a woman who loved him – a woman who had saved his life countless times since they had met – deliberately try to hurt him?

He couldn't do it.

His head and shoulders slumped. He let his raised hand fall harmlessly to the top of her head, gripping it with affection. "And I love you," he whispered.

She let out a long breath and he felt her neck muscles relax.

"Spirit," he said, "is it true that I carry a part of the Avatar's spirit?"

There was no response. Amon released Korra and turned to walk up to the sinewy black mass.

"Spirit."

"It is true."

His hands clasped behind his back and he stood tall, showing respect. "Then I thank you for your generosity, spirit. You have given me a new life not just once, but twice. In return, I have done much work to balance the world. My brothers and sisters, as we speak, are liberating the unjustly imprisoned, and I have set in motion a movement that will not rest until non-benders have a prominent place in society.

"At the root of my goal, there was always vengeance: I wanted to punish the Avatar for not doing enough to protect my family. I thought bending was a squandered gift, an impurity that needed to be cleansed so that non-benders could shine. To learn that I was using a part of the Avatar's gift myself, all this time, to chase my own selfish motives, and maybe yours as well..." He shook his head. "I cannot justify continuing on this path. I will not take her bending."

"Humans are so easily swayed," it said. "One confession of love, and you are corrupted as well."

"No. This has been an unfurling realization, one nurtured over time." Amon's hand rose to the buckle of his mask. "I thank you again for your gifts, but I am no longer your servant."

Wind began to batter his robes, and a brilliant white halo formed around the spirit. He took a step back, shielding his eyes, suddenly realizing that the spirit was not as reasonable as he had always believed.

_Korra, run_ , he tried to say, but his mouth felt as if it were welded shut. He struggled against unseen forces to take another step back as the spirit swelled, engulfing his vision.

"Were we meeting between worlds, as we did when you were a child, then that choice might be yours to make. But the Avatar summoned me here, where I can punish your disobedience." The spirit loomed above him, glowing white. "Balance will be maintained."

An oily black hand pressed through the mask and into his forehead, and light engulfed his vision.

.*.*.*.

"Amon!" Korra stumbled toward him, her limbs still difficult to control after his chi-blocking. The spirit turned to her, its hand still pressed to Amon's forehead.

"You were supposed to be his saviour!" she yelled.

"And I will be. Let me show you what your spirit is good for, Avatar." The being flickered, then disappeared.

Amon turned to face her.

Behind his mask, his eyes glowed white. An orb of wind began to form around him.

"No," she whispered.

"The concept of the Avatar has failed," said Amon's voice as he took a step toward her. "Both in one part and in two. It is time for a new solution." Another pace.

She yelled his name, called for him to stop, but as he advanced, she realized that she was not going to be able to reach deep enough to pull him back.

"Leave him!" She brought her hands together in front of her chest as she focused her energy, calling flame to her limbs.

.*.*.*.

Trapped within his body, Amon watched himself close in on Korra.

_"I can feel that this hurts you, little one,"_  said the spirit. _"I did not expect this softness when I chose you."_

"Why me?"

_"Your soul has held the attention of the spirits for generations. You have the tenacity, strategy and fervour of a leader. All you needed was a cause."_

His hands, under the spirit's control, lifted a chunk of earth from the ground and launched it at her; she caught it and redirected it. It smashed against the wall, dust clouding around the impact.

The cave, still unstable after the initial earthquake, began to shudder.

"You're going to kill us both!"

_"The balance must be maintained."_

Cracks were spreading in the ceiling, and the first loose chunks of earth showered her, sparkling in the light of her flames. Any moment, it would start to collapse.

Memories flooded his mind's eye. He saw the flaming beam drop on his mother. The rocks about to drop on Korra during the earthquake, the one he had taken to his arm instead.

His father's dead, staring eyes – then Korra's, kind and vivid, as she tended to his wounds even though they were sworn enemies.

The spirit had always let him believe that benders were the source of all pain in the world, but where had the spirits been when his family was attacked?

All he had needed was a cause.

"You let the fire take my family," he realized. "You were watching me for generations, waiting for the tragedy that would give me the drive to commit to your cause. As soon as the fire was over, you snatched me away. You waited until my family died, right in front of you, so that you could use me on your crusade against benders. Against the Avatar."

The spirit launched an orb of wind at Korra, knocking her back.

"Answer me," demanded Amon.

_"Yes,"_  said the spirit.

And now his body was being used to destroy the one bender who loved him. Rage surged through him.

Korra's attacks pelted the air shield around his body. The shield was sound, but with each impact, he felt the reverberation all the way to his core: an opening in the spirit's power. A weakness.

Amon began to fight harder than he had ever fought for anything in his life, clawing for the surface.

.*.*.*.

Korra slung earth and flame at Amon, but as with all of her attacks, they bounced harmlessly off his air. The bastardized Avatar State that the spirit was using made him impervious to her attacks. Her only option was escape, but to what end? Now that she knew she could not be a fully-realized Avatar without defeating him, escape was less important. The spirit was too dangerous to leave alone.

Above her, the earth groaned again, and dust showered down on them. She gauged that it was only a matter of minutes until the whole ceiling came down and killed them both.

At the words, a flood of calmness overcame her panic. If they were both killed, then the two fractured parts of her spirit would become one. The Avatar would be reborn, and the cycle would begin anew.

She eyed the ceiling, looking for the best fracture point.

"Korra." Amon's advance halted and the white light in his eyes flickered. "I'm trying to...break..." The words trailed off. His hand began to reach for his mask, trembling as if under great strain.

"Fight it, Amon," she whispered, poised to strike the ceiling if he failed.

At first, it looked as if he might be able to tear off the mask, but then his arm fell back down to his side. She waited, holding her breath.

The white light flared to life again. He had lost.

Then it was up to her.

She thrust her fist in the air, lifting a boulder from the ground and slamming it into the ceiling. Cracks ran along the ceiling from the contact, and the whole cave began to shudder.

As she waited for the impact, an onslaught of faces barraged her mind: her parents, sad but brave as she left for the city. Katara, wise and patient. Tenzin and his family – her family, now. Asami's cocked brow. Mako's awkward smile, stifled by whatever unanswered tension had always been between them. Bolin, buffoonish and sweet, the first to notice when she was down and to celebrate when she was happy. Lin, stoic Lin, whose hard eyes and scars held stories of pain, stories that Korra would never hear.

Lastly, she saw Amon. The abrupt first confrontation, the one that had haunted her nightmares. The look of pain in his eyes when he took the blow for her in the cave. The tenderness in his arms the night she had collapsed from exhaustion, the first night she had realized she was starting to care for him. The images gained speed: his face in the dark, the rasp of his scarred face against hers, the fear in his eyes when he had first shown his face to her, and the terror right before Tarrlok squeezed the life from him. A single tear leaked down her cheek.

_In the end, Amon, we both gave ourselves to protect what we believed in._

Her eyes closed as she waited to be reborn.

.*.*.*.

Around them, the cave began to collapse.

The air shield shuddered, and Amon could feel the spirit strain, all its energy focused on keeping the falling rocks at bay. The restraint on him lessened. He battled forward, swelled, grew...

...fell back into his body. He struggled for a moment to keep the air shield up and keep the spirit at bay at the same time, then began to run.

"Korra!" he yelled.

He could feel the spirit scrabbling at his soul, fighting to regain control.

.*.*.*.

Amon was yelling – she couldn't distinguish the words over the quaking stone. Korra's eyes flew open in time to see him diving for her, the light in his eyes flickering. He landed hard on his back beside her and thrust upwards with his palms. A protective orb of air surrounded them. He grunted with effort as tumbling rocks began to pelt at the shield.

"The mask." His teeth were bared, his words choppy. "The mask. Take it..."

She leaned over, her hands shaking so badly that she could barely find the buckle. Soil streamed over the shield like water, and it began to compress around them, giving beneath the strain.

His eyes were still flickering white. "Korra!"

Buckle be damned. She jerked it off his head, snapping the strap.

"Throw it!" His eyes screwed shut, his face crimson and slick. "The shield...the shield will fall..."

"I'll take it from there," she promised, tossing the mask into the chaos. She fell onto her back beside him and began to earthbend through the shield, deflecting the heavier chunks of rock away before they could compound the stress on the barrier. Sweat ran down her face and neck.

She could see the mask on the ground, barely a foot outside the shield. A boulder was falling toward it, and she readied herself.

The contact was audible even over the shuddering earth. Shards of porcelain flew into the air, hovering among the clouds of dust like snow against a storm.

Amon yelled and doubled over, gripping his head. The air shield began to dissipate.

Energy rushed into Korra, travelled through her veins, flooding her body before the porcelain shards had even hit the ground. She felt the strength of thousands of Avatars in her muscles as she thrust her arms from her body and howled.

The cave exploded from them, and her mind went white.

.*.*.*.

Hands gripped her wrists. She blinked against the silver light in her vision, voices circling in her head.

"...It's all okay now. We're safe, Korra..."

Her eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them again, Amon was gripping her shoulders, his face worried.

Her jaw quivered as she slumped against him, exhausted. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. You let me talk you down." His arms slid around her, protective, and he buried his face in the top of her head. "But I don't think the mountain will ever be the same."

She closed her eyes, nuzzling into his chest.

After a moment, he planted a soft kiss onto her head and stepped away, searching the ground. She did a slow turnaround. They stood in the centre of a dusty plateau, shards of rock and rubble scattered across it. What was formerly the cave was now open ground, all the way back to the pool. Boulders and rubble trailed down the mountain, scattered as if they were pebbles cast by a child, and she hoped that the damage was minimal.

Several feet in front of her, Amon stopped and knelt. Pacing toward him, she saw that he was touching the remnants of his mask. It was plain white once again, the markings gone. Half of it was completely shattered, the shards scattered in a halo. The other half was badly damaged. He picked up the damaged half and his thumb slid against the porcelain.

"I'm sorry," she said as she stood behind him.

"Everything I have known..." His voice trailed off.

Slowly, he began to scoop a hole in the earth. She watched for a moment before she realized that he was digging a small grave. She knelt beside him, wordless, and began to help. It would have been faster to use earthbending, but it didn't feel appropriate, given what the mask represented. Their hands worked easily around one another, dancing in rhythm. Once the hole was deep enough, he slid the shards into the hole, but set the intact half aside before he buried them. They knelt side-by-side, looking at the packed earth. Her hand slid onto his shoulder and squeezed; he covered it with his own.

After a long moment, he spoke: "The spirit will try to find you again. It was waiting for generations for the perfect opportunity."

"I will try to set things right before it can." Her thumb skated across his. "I know the balance is off, but I still believe that we can fix it. Tarrlok was a good start."

"You equalized him?"

"I prefer the term energybending." With a smirk, she added, "I went into the Avatar State when you died. Charged him down. Probably scared the life right out of him."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Good."

She tugged his hand, guiding him to stand, and led him to a stone ledge overlooking the city. They sat, side-by-side. From here, it looked as if the docks were quiet, a few police boats patrolling the harbour. An Equalist ship was hovering over the police station in the distance, and she turned to him, a brow raised. "Know anything about that?"

"Freeing the wrongly imprisoned. Not an invasion." His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Yet."

"Yet." She shook her head. "Are we always going to be at war with one another, Amon?"

"My part in this war has ended." He leaned forward, staring absently across the city. "Let them believe that I am dead. Take the remaining half of the mask back to the city with you."

She swallowed hard. "I hoped you might decide to come back with me."

"I must disappear." His hand found hers. "Our secret is out, Korra. The rumours will spread like flames if I return, consuming both of our reputations. All eyes would be on us all the time, waiting for us to slip up and get caught again. Both of our causes would be drowned beneath a sea of celebrity. But my death is the far more interesting story, one that will hold the spotlight." He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed a knuckle. "Besides, my gifts are gone. I am more valuable to the Equalist cause as a legend than I am as..." He trailed off.

"As an ex-bender," she finished, the irony not lost on her.

It must not have been lost on him, either, for there was a long pause. They stared down at the city together. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, like a caress, and she leaned into him. His arm draped around her.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"I don't know. I need time to..." He hesitated, searching for the words. "To determine which thoughts are actually my own. To figure out truth from lie. I suppose I will have to leave the city if I am to stay dead. Even without my mask, nearly every citizen knows my voice."

"And I need to stay here," she said. "Balance starts with Republic City."

"It's getting late," he said. The sun was already low in the horizon. He turned to her, and his voice was suddenly raw. "I'm going to miss you, Korra."

_Don't leave me_ , she wanted to say, but she knew that wasn't possible. She forced a smile, trying to be brave. "I know you said we would have an unhappy ending, Amon, but I think we did all right."

He stood and pulled her to her feet. His palms pressed to either of her cheeks, pulling her in. A gentle, chaste kiss. She felt a hot tear roll off of his cheek and onto hers.

Then he pulled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again and swallowed hard. She understood. Her throat was too tight to speak as well.

Then he turned and walked away.

Korra turned back to the city and set her jaw, willing herself not to watch him leave.

So long as she didn't see him leave, it wasn't real.

.*.*.*.

Retracing her earlier path of destruction led her back to the docks shortly before sunset. The dock was nearly deserted, save for a sky bison and five figures. Around them, the dock was splintered and broken, but the people themselves seemed uninjured.

Asami was the first to stand, noticing Korra's approach. The others stood as well, their faces grim.

Korra sank to her knees before them, head bowed, and dropped the shattered half of the mask in front of her. The red light of the sunset streaked across it, casting a long, disfigured shadow.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

To her surprise, it was Tenzin who approached her and held out a hand to help her up. The tears she had been bravely holding at bay began to flow, and she fell into his chest. His arms wrapped protectively around her.

"It's okay, Korra," he said. "It's all over."


	13. Epilogue: Reborn

**Epilogue  
Reborn**

_Three years later_

Korra's eyes trailed across the hall, seeking familiar faces in the crowd before her. She finally found her friends by the food tables, which didn't really surprise her. The boys looked handsome in their suits, and Asami was radiant as ever in a crimson gown. Korra both admired and envied the girl's confident posture; she had let Asami talk her into wearing a gown instead of her traditional water tribe formal dress, and now she felt the urge to hunch over and hide. The shining blue fabric clung to her curves in immodest ways, drawing inappropriate glances that made her blush. As if that weren't discomfiting enough, Asami had layered makeup onto her face. The desire to tug at her sticky eyelashes was overwhelming.

The crowd began to clap, and Korra turned to throw a smile at Tenzin, realizing that he had probably just said something kind about her. She was not being a grateful or attentive guest of honour.

"Now," said Tenzin, "a few words from Avatar Korra!"

The crowd began to cheer. Dreading every second of it, Korra stepped up to the microphone.

"Thank you for coming. The war was a trying time for many of us – well, all of us – so it's, uh, an important part of Republic City history. So, I'm proud to officially open the newest exhibit in the City Museum: The Revolution." After a long pause, she added, "Please enjoy the fun." Cringing, she realized that she had just referred to the troubling time as "fun." She ducked her head and jumped down from the podium. Her slip-up didn't seem to matter: the crowd roared. Ever since the end of the war, it seemed she could do no wrong in the eyes of Republic City.

"We need to get you a speech writer," said Tenzin, leaning over to her.

"The crowd eats it up," said Councilwoman Midori. "They love her awkwardness. And don't try to tell me I'm wrong, Tenzin; I know a thing or two about compelling public speaking."

"'Compelling' and 'manipulative' are not the same thing."

The two exchanged a glare, and Korra sighed to herself. It had been a year since the non-radical Equalist political party had formally entered office, and the councilwoman was proving to be a rational and valuable addition to the council, but the arrangement was still new enough that there were lingering hard feelings. Each day was a step in the right direction, at least. It was better than terrorism and war.

Those thoughts were attached to feelings she would rather avoid, so she stopped herself. There was going to be enough here to remind her of that as it was.

Midori stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take a moment to view the new exhibit while the band sets up. Dancing will commence shortly. And if you are looking for a dance with our guest of honour, you'd best be prepared to fight for it – her dance card is going to fill up fast."

"Watch your toes, because she can't dance!" heckled Bolin from the food tables, getting a few nervous chuckles out of the crowd. Korra wondered if he had been hitting the noodles too hard.

There was applause and, the presentations over, Tenzin signalled for the microphone to be cut. A large portion of the crowd milled out of the hall, into the exhibit room next to it. Korra stood, intending to slip away.

"Remember to dance a bit tonight, Korra," said Midori, turning to her. "There are some special guests from all around the world here today, and they are eager to get to know you."

"It's a good diplomatic opportunity," added Tenzin.

Korra shrugged, annoyed that the one thing they would agree on was the thing she didn't want to do. "Bolin wasn't far off about the toe thing."

"Then tread gently." Midori turned back to the other council members.

Excusing herself, Korra moved into the crowd. Everywhere she moved, people in the crowd smiled at her as if they knew her, and she longed to run outside, call Naga and retire to the mountains. Instead, she stepped out of the hall. The exhibition chamber was busy, and she felt her chest ache as she glanced around the room.

Just as she had expected. Banners, flags, pamphlets – all of them emblazoned with Amon's mask. Surely enough time had passed that she shouldn't react to his face anymore. He still appeared in her dreams now and then, and she was starting to wonder if that would ever stop. As much as she tried to move on, she often found her thoughts drifting to him. More than one potential relationship had fallen apart around her because her heart was too stubborn to move on.

She pushed through the crowd to look for her friends, nodding at those who greeted her. There was a blank space at the head of the room, so she moved in that direction, hoping for a clear vantage point, but when she reached it, she froze.

Inside a glass case was Amon's fractured mask.

Her hand came to her mouth. She stared at it, her knees unexpectedly weak. Gripping the velvet rope for support – not that it provided much – she stared at the mask as if expecting it to speak.

"You all right, Korra?" Bolin appeared beside her, face worried. Mako and Asami moved to stand on her other side.

She nodded. "Wasn't expecting to see this again."

They stood beside her, silent, and she could feel the question on their minds:  _Do you still miss him?_  While they had begrudgingly come to accept that she and Amon had been in love, she had spared them many of the details, and it was rarely a topic of conversation. The war was still too fresh for her friends to accept that the instigator had been worthy of the Avatar's love.

"Korra?"

She blinked. "Sorry. Yes, I'm fine." Turning to her friends, she gave them a smile. "I just need a minute."

"We're here if you need to talk," said Asami, squeezing Korra's shoulder, and then she cocked her head at the boys. After they left, it was just Korra and the mask, a sea of people flowing behind her.

Spirits, she missed him. She reached out a hand to touch the glass.

"I wouldn't do that. It's likely alarmed." The deep voice behind her sent rumbles through her body, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She did not turn, afraid that doing so would confirm that the voice had been in her imagination. Her eyes still fixed on the mask, she replied:

"I was just thinking: it's odd that history judges him so kindly after all he did to terrorize this city."

"I hear the Avatar had a hand in that." There was no mistaking that voice; her jaw began to quiver. "That after his passing, she managed to redirect the efforts of his Equalists just enough that he became a less-than-savoury radical revolutionary, not a full-blown terrorist. Some say it was a happy accident, a result of her pursuit of peace. Others, that the whispers of forbidden love were true, and she wanted to clean up her dead lover's image. But I suppose it doesn't matter now, because one way or another, Amon is dead, and Republic City found equality."

In the other room, the band began to play, a delicately happy tune with swelling strings. Korra's eyes closed, feeling the music echo in her chest.

"Some say he still lives," she said. "A body was never found." A lump formed in her throat, and she bowed her head, trying to swallow it back.

A hand, familiar and warm, gripped her bare shoulder, and she felt his breath close to her ear:

"Korra, please look at me. I need to see your face again."

Her mouth was almost too dry to speak. "I'm afraid that if I turn around, you won't be real."

"But what if I am, and you don't?" The thumb slid against her skin, almost undetectable.

Gathering her courage, she turned, but not yet brave enough to meet his eyes, she trailed his body instead. He wore the red-and-black finery traditional to the fire nation, with clean, flowing lines, gold trim and peaks at the shoulders. The hood was deep and sat low over his face so that only his mouth and scarred chin were visible in the light until, deep within the shadows, she saw the glint of his eyes. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"I always imagined what I would say to you if I saw you again," said Amon, "but I'm having a hard time finding the words to tell you how beautiful you look."

She blinked, her eyes suddenly damp. "You cut quite the dashing figure yourself."

He reached out his hand. "Avatar Korra, if you would oblige me, I would be honoured to have your first dance."

"If I'm not mistaken, I gave you my first dance, once upon a time, and it ended in heartbreak for both of us."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Yes, but what a dance it was."

After a pause, she accepted his hand. Shivers ran down her spine as she was reminded of the texture of his skin, the way his fingers fit between hers. As he led her to the dance floor, hundreds of eyes followed them. Her hand rose to his shoulder, his to her waist. Their other hands joined, electricity dancing between their palms. Her blush deepened as he drew her in close.

"Do you realize that every eye in the city is on us right now?" she whispered as he led her onto the dance floor. "They're all wondering,  _who is that hooded man dancing with the Avatar?_ It would have been smarter to wait until a less obvious time to approach me."

"That is true, but..." He leaned close, his face inches from hers. "You might not have noticed, Korra, but I have a compulsive need to be the centre of attention."

She laughed, a little too loudly. At this proximity, she was growing giddy from the faint, spicy scent of his cologne.

As agile on the dance floor as he was in battle, he spun her across the floor. She was grateful for the flared skirt that twirled around her, because it hid her legs as she stumbled to keep up.

"Sorry," she murmured as her foot stomped his. "Grace has never been one of my strengths."

"Not on the dance floor, maybe." His fingers fluttered subtly down her spine as his voice dropped to a growl. "You are all grace in...certain contexts."

Her knees wobbled. She leaned into him as they moved, pressing her body flush against his. "I've missed you."

"And I, you." His dancing slowed as their eyes locked.

Quietly, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"I need to speak with you, Korra. In private." His voice was barely audible above the music.

She nodded, wanting nothing more than to spend some time alone with him. "Take the northwest stairs to the second floor. Wait for me by an empty office. I'll find you after two more songs."

The music was already winding down, and as he dipped her, his mouth came within inches of hers. A shiver rippled through her and, for a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but he only set her upright and bowed. With a bow – quickly corrected into a curtsy – she said, "Thank you for the dance, Mr.-"

"Zoran," he said. "A pleasure, Avatar Korra. Perhaps we can share another one later."

Turning, he disappeared into the crowd.

.*.*.*.

The stairs led to a hallway with a dozen attached offices. Amon quickly and quietly checked each one, making certain they truly would be alone. After the scandal with the police surveillance, he would forever be worried about privacy.

The second-to-last office was completely empty; the marble floor was lined with a large and rather bland carpet, but otherwise there was no furniture. The windows against the far wall were shuttered close. It appeared to be the safest room to use uninterrupted. He stood by the door, waiting.

After two songs, as promised, she appeared at the top of the stairwell and began to walk toward him. As she approached, he stepped forward to intercept her. His hands caught either side of her face and drew her to him, and his lips found hers. Her taste was just as he remembered: sweet, earthy and primal.

She moaned and thrust him hard against the wall, leaning all her weight into him and deepening the kiss. Her body was warm and taut. His eyes fluttered closed. As his tongue found hers, he reached blindly for the doorknob and, once it was open, pulled her into the room. She tugged his shoulders, pulling him off balance, and he fell on top of her as they tumbled to the floor. The impact had driven her teeth into his lip, the pain awakening a feral edge to his need. He nipped her lip in retribution; her hand raked into his hair and grabbed, pulling so hard that he groaned into her mouth. Her foot reached out from beneath him, scrabbling for the door, and, finally finding it, kicked it shut.

He broke the kiss to catch his breath, pressing his forehead to hers. Her chest was heaving beneath his. She darted up to bite his lip and then pulled away again, her eyes sparkling with such mischief that he had a hard time finding his voice.

"I really did mean for us to talk, Korra."

"So did I. Then you kissed me."

"I was..." His excuse faded from his mind as she raked her hands down his back, then clawed into the muscle of his rear and forced him tightly between her legs. He drew in a shuddering breath.

"How long do you have?" he asked.

"Maybe ten minutes before anyone notices I'm gone."

He lunged down to kiss her again and ran a heavy hand along the side of her body, down to the bottom of her dress and then back up underneath it. No underclothes – convenient. He raised her skirt safely above her hips, then shifted his weight just enough to allow him to reach between her legs as he kissed her. At first, her fingers raked against his back, matching the rhythm of his hand, but then she reached for his waistcoat. His pulse raced with anticipation.

It soon became apparent that she couldn't find her way through the layers. Her brows pinched and she let out a soft curse as she fiddled with a decorative button, and he realized that he would have to rescue her. He propped himself up with one elbow. "Here."

"Do you own a single outfit that's easy to remove?" she muttered. "This is even more ridiculous than your old tunic."

"Next time, I'll come to you naked." The jest died on his lips.  _Next time_. The words hung heavy in the air for a moment, their eyes locking.

There would be time for discussion later; he broke the tension with another kiss. Jerking the fabric of his tunic out of the way, he yanked his pants down his hips.

With no hesitation, she gripped him and guided him into her. Once they were joined, her arms locked around his lower back, holding him in place for a moment. Amon held his breath. The world around them faded: there was no music and murmuring crowd downstairs, no empty office around them. All he knew was her warmth and the half-lidded eyes that stared through him. Challenging him.

He began to move, and a gasp left her lips, but her gaze did not drop. He held it, staring into the blue depths, finding there a spectrum of emotions that he could not name, but felt echoed within himself.

During their time apart, he had often fantasized about a tender reunion with her, slow and gentle as they took the time to rediscover each other, but their bodies fit together so well that his restraint evaporated and their pace quickened. The frenzy of their opening kiss took hold again, and he buried his face into her neck, biting the underside of her jaw. Her limbs wrapped so tightly around him that it was difficult to breath.

"Harder," she panted into his ear. "I want to feel how much you missed me."

The words nearly pulled him under. He cursed, fighting to control himself. His hand snaked beneath her lower back and he lifted, rocking her against him counter to his movements. She clawed her fingers into his hair again, twisting tighter, then suddenly arched and cried out. He skimmed her lips with his, breathing in her cries.

Once she lay still, he picked up his pace again. He could feel himself beginning to crest as well; he hesitated, realizing that they were both fully clothed and on carpet, with no access to anything resembling a rag. She must have had the same thought, for she surprised him by rolling him over. Disentangling herself from him, she slid quickly down his body and positioned herself between his legs. Another curse flew from his lips at the warmth of her mouth. Her hand reached up for his, an anchor, and he clung to it. She was rough, unyielding, and within seconds he was swallowed by the pleasure.

As his mind returned, he realized that he was nearly doubled over, curled around her. He slowly lowered himself back to the carpet, and his hand, still entwined with hers, fell to his side.

She crawled back up his body and fell on top of him, her cheek pressed to his chest. They lay together, breathing hard. His surroundings slowly began to come back into focus: the office, the music, the sounds of the crowd.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she said quietly.

"I wasn't planning on returning." He brought his free hand to her damp forehead, smoothing her hair.

"Where have you been?"

"I have made a good life for myself in a small village." He hooked her hair behind her ear. "I have made a name for myself teaching self-defense. I'm boarding with a family that reminds me of my own. A whole new life." He paused. "I've tried to move on, but I can be rather single-minded."

"Same here." Her breaths were slow and even now. "Did you figure your way through everything? Which thoughts were your own?"

"They were all my own. I am still working out which ones are true." After a pause, he added, "I hear my Equalists went soft."

"You gave them a voice and attracted our ears. Once we began to listen, the war came to a close. Councilwoman Midori has been especially helpful in negotiating terms of peace, and very few radicals remain. Even your lieutenant agreed to cooperate in exchange for a reduced sentence."

It wasn't how he had envisioned things playing out, but he felt a swell of pride anyway. In the end, the non-benders had a voice, and those closest to him had gotten off with very little punishment. No matter what the intentions were of the mission he had once followed, good had come of it in the end. "It sounds as if the balance is shifting in the right direction."

"Yes, but not quite there yet. There is still a long way to go in terms of cleaning up the gangs. And speaking of the Council, I should get back downstairs before I'm missed." She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, frowning. "I look like I just had sex, don't I?"

"Here." He sat up and straightened her hair, then used his thumbs to fix the makeup that had smudged around her eyes.

"Thank you." With her cheeks flushed, her eyes looked even bluer than before. Spirits, he loved her eyes. "You didn't really answer my question earlier, Amon – why are you here?"

"Midori offered me a job as a political strategist." He watched her, waiting for her reaction.

"A job." Her eyes widened, and he tried to read the expression. Was there hope in there, or just confusion?

"It isn't without complications," he said. "My voice and mannerisms are recognizable, and so I would likely have to do much of my work behind the scenes. But I am strongly considering it. I have missed this city. And one of its citizens in particular."

Her eyes were still wide, and she didn't say anything, so he pressed on:

"I know that isn't without its complications, as well, and that is something we need to consider if I decide to stay. Our past is fraught with mistrust and tension. Our future might be, as well: I will always have conflicted opinions about bending, which may cause strain with you or any children you might have. And the fact that I am recognizable could cause issue with your friends, or with rumours, or with the law-"

"Amon, stop," she said gently. "Give me a moment to think." She stood and straightened her dress back into place. He stood as well, fastening his pants and smoothing his robes, waiting for her response with more anxiety than he cared to admit.

Then, she gathered his hands. "I know you're used to thinking ten steps ahead, but let's just take it one step at a time."

His eyes searched hers. "And what is the next step?"

"You kiss me," she said. "Then we go back downstairs and dance again."

He watched her, trying to determine if he was understanding her correctly. Her cheeks darkened.

"More than we realized, Amon, we really are two complementing halves. Yin and yang. I know it's not going to be easy, but I don't think anything ever has been for either of us." She gave a small, shy shrug. "And maybe we won't see eye-to-eye on everything, and maybe it will all end in heartbreak, but that didn't stop us before. So kiss me, and we'll go dance again and see what happens from there. How does that sound?" Her eyes sparkled.

A slow smile spread across his lips. He tilted her chin, bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

_She folds her legs beneath her, her back pressing to the granite of the statue base, and begins to meditate. Her companion wanders further along the plateau, sipping so noisily at his straw that she fights the urge to knock the iced coffee right out of his hand._

_"I was right! There's a little pool back here," he yells._

_"Spirits! I'm trying to meditate here." She slaps her palms into the ground in frustration, accidentally sensing deep into the earth. What she feels surprises her: there is something beneath her, fragments that don't belong to the soil. Distracted from meditation, she shifts over and begins to claw at the dirt._

_"What is it?" he calls._

_"Something buried in the soil."_

_Her companion rushes up and kneels beside her. "Treasure?"_

_"Some strange stone fragments."_

_He sighs. "You and your rocks."_

_Ignoring him, she lifts the rest of the soil away and unearths simple porcelain shards. She turns to her companion, certain he'll be disappointed._

_Instead, his brows furrow, and he reaches out for one. As he examines it, strain flickers across his features. He rubs his shaved head._

_"What's wrong?" she asks._

_"I recognize these."_

_"It's probably a dinner plate."_

_"No, something more...spiritual. And not just these." He slides the shard into his palm and stands, slowly spinning around. "All of this. It's like a forgotten dream."_

_She knows the feeling all too well, but given her position, that is not uncommon. She can't help but feel that the feeling is related to Korra somehow. It always struck her as odd that Korra's statue was built here, on a mountain, and not in the harbour near Aang's._

_"Well," he says, "you go ahead and start meditating. I'm going back to the car."_

_"You don't want to join me?"_

_"Nah. This place is creeping me out. We'll meditate together back at the temple. I have a new technique to show you, anyway, so might as well do it all at once." He claps her arm, lingering just a few seconds too long for it to be platonic. "Good luck. I hope you reach her this time." He has been touching her more and more recently, finding random excuses to do so. Though she has been fighting to keep her thoughts about him strictly professional, she is starting to warm to the contact, and as he leaves, she finds that she is smiling._

_Sitting cross-legged, she bows her head and closes her eyes, her back to Korra's statue. She has been working so hard – maybe this will finally be the day that she reaches her predecessor._

_.*.*.*._

_**They say that the same souls reincarnate together, lifetime after lifetime. And so the cycle begins anew.** _

_**X.** _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in The Cave II: Shadows of the City.


End file.
